Birds of a Feather
by kashkow
Summary: Yet another old story. This time I was exploring the relationship between Heath and Silas. It seemed that they should have a lot in common, though it was never explored in the series much beyond some expressive glances and a few lines here and there.


Birds of a Feather

**by Kashkow**

**Disclaimer: The characters and situations of the TV program "Big Valley" are the creations of Four Star/Republic Pictures and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended by the author. The ideas expressed in this story are copyrighted to the author.**

**Part 1**

Silas Carver measured the coffee into the pot carefully, and then filled it with fresh water. He sat it on the back burner of the stove to brew. It would be ready for the morning meal that would be served in about two hours. He turned back to mixing his biscuit dough that he would cut out and set to rise before baking them. He was humming a hymn to himself when a blue and tan form, holding a knife came into his view sneaking toward the freshly baked bread that was on the counter across the kitchen. Silas broke into a wide grin and shook his head.

"Don't you do it, Mr. Heath. That bread is too hot to cut. You'll make the loaf all raggedy and I won't be able to use it for sandwiches then." He said, not turning. He heard a sigh from the form, who slid the knife back out of sight somewhere.

"But I'm hungry now Silas, and it won't be as good later when it's cooled down. " Heath Barkley said, coming to sit at the table across from Silas. A frown crossed his handsome face. "And I thought we talked about the 'Mister' thing, unless you want me to start calling you Mr. Silas when we are here alone?"

Silas grinned at the young man, so very like his father, but so much his own man. "Now don't be kidding with old Silas. I just forgot, and it slipped out. You know I gotta do what I gots to do for the rest of the time."

Heath nodded. It had been a hard fought battle to get the concession of no 'mister' in private; he wasn't going to push it on the rest. He watched as the older man rose and went to the counter where the bread was cooling and uncovered something that had been under a clean dishtowel. He put the something on a plate, and brought it and a small bowl with butter over to the table and set it in front of Heath. The cowboy looked down to find a small yet perfectly formed loaf of bread lying on the plate before him. He looked back at Silas, his sky blue eyes puzzled.

"I found some old pans that Miss Audra used to play with as a child, and made you a loaf all to yourself. Should keep your stomach full until breakfast time." The black man said, sitting back down at his biscuit batter. He started to roll it out on the cool marble stone he had set on the table, as Heath buttered and ate the small loaf of bread. Silas smiled again at the exaggerated roll of the eyes that the cowboy gave at his first bite, but he felt happy that he could provide something so simple that pleased the young man so much. You wouldn't catch any of the other children of Tom Barkley in the kitchen at 5:00 am eating hot bread.

Silas had quickly developed a partiality to this boy of Tom Barkley's. He had ached for the young man when he first came, knowing how hard it had to be for him to claim what was rightfully his. At the first look though, he had known that this was Tom Barkley's son, and all the years that he had know the father had told him how proud that man would have been of the son he never knew. Heath Barkley was proving himself to be a proud, honest, courageous, and honorable man. Someone any man would be proud to call son. Silas had been surprised and pleased to find that the man held no prejudice in him, had in fact had been raised in part by a black woman, and honored her as much as his own mother.

In the last three months they had found many things that they had in common: a love of morning solitude, a work ethic that was uncompromising, and a craving for southern food being only a few. They often had shared a morning cup of coffee, sitting silently at the small kitchen table, simply enjoying the companionship. At first in the weeks that Nick Barkley had decided to make life as difficult as possible for his new brother, the silent peace of the morning had been Heath's only solace. Now that Nick had at least tacitly accepted Heath the oasis had become a habit, and one that both men enjoyed.

Heath ate his bread and drank the cup of coffee that Silas had poured from the pot left from the previous day before starting the new brew. Someone who had spent his life scrapping for every penny, as Heath had been until recently, knew the value of leftover coffee, and had even come to enjoy it. Heath thought Silas's coffee was the best around, no matter how old it was. After watching for a few moments as Silas finished the biscuits, he rose to his feet.

"That paddock fence ain't gonna fix itself. Reckon if I start now I'll be done by breakfast, and then we'll get that framin' lumber over to the church so they can get started. It was today that you said they were goin' to be ready?" He said as he went toward the back door.

Silas nodded. "Yes, the men is supposed to be done with the foundation and should be ready today to start working on the framin'. But I done told you that you ain't gotta come along. I can drives the team over no problem once it is loaded up…"

Heath interrupted, "Yeah and I bet you would be helping unload when you got there too."

"Now Heath, it ain't no thing to…"

"The doc done told you not to put any strain on that arm, that includes moving lumber and as far as I can tell also includes drivin' a team. You'll have to take the draft horses and it ain't easy holdin' them back when they are feeling frisky. So I'm goin'." He said in a voice that reminded Silas of Tom Barkley at his most decisive.

There wasn't no use arguing with that voice Silas knew, so he nodded his head in agreement. As Heath slipped out the back door into the dawn light, Silas began humming a hymn again, and wondered if Heath had told his brother Nick about their little trip this morning.

**Part 2  
**  
At seven o'clock the Barkley family traditionally gathered for breakfast. Everyone who was able was expected to make an appearance. It was not unusual for Jarrod to be missing as he often stayed overnight in Stockton, or was away at his office in San Francisco. On this occasion it happened that all the Barkley's with the exception of Eugene were present, or were at least on the ranch. At 7:00 am on the dot Victoria Barkley swept into the room to find herself and Jarrod the only occupants. She knew that Audra was on her way downstairs now, and she had heard Nick through the window of her room, outside bellowing at someone about feed sacks. As to where her newest son was she had no idea.

After several months of 'Ma'am' and 'Mrs. Barkley' she had finally won from him the honor of being called 'Mother'. It was an unexpectedly wonderful feeling. While her own children had of course always called her that, something in this was more significant. It was as if an honor had been bestowed, as if she had won a medal. Whatever it was, she had come to look on the young man as her own, and she expected him to be at the breakfast table. She knew that he usually was up before the sun, and working at something near the house. Nick, in a rare moment of admiration, had said the man usually did more before breakfast than some men did all day. It had been one of the things that had made Nick take a second look at his new brother, to look beyond the anger and hurt he had felt at his father and really see the man that had become part of his life.

As Victoria swept toward the table Jarrod, no doubt alert by the rustling of her skirts, lowered his paper and smiled at her, his vivid blue eyes sparkling. "Good morning Lovely lady. I see that you are looking more beautiful than ever. You slept well I trust." He asked, rising to his feet to seat her at her accustomed place at the head of the table. He dropped a kiss on her cheek.

"Yes. I did. The temperature has dropped now, and the nights are much more tolerable. I believe we are truly into autumn. I expect we will even see some storms soon." As recently as last week it had been almost unbearably hot, but now in the first days of October the weather had changed to a more moderate temperature, and clouds could be seen gathering in the hills to the east, speaking of thunderstorms there. Jarrod nodded his agreement as Victoria looked around at the empty chairs and raised an eyebrow. Jarrod smiled and rose to his feet.

"Allow me to gather your missing flock, Mother. I believe Nick was just outside, I heard him….speaking loudly to someone just moments ago. I'm sure Heath is around somewhere also, he can tell the time by looking at the sun better than anyone I have ever met."

"Your sister should be down in a few moments. I saw her brushing her hair in her room as I was coming down. But you might hurry your brothers along." She replied. Jarrod gave her a mock bow and went toward the door, stopping to allow Audra to sweep in. She was dressed in blue, a shade almost the same as her eyes, and her cheeks were flushed with color.

"Was that Nick making all that racket outside?" she asked as she came into the room and went to give her mother a kiss on the cheek. "Sorry I'm late mother, but I couldn't find the ribbons that matched this dress. I just decided to leave it down since the weather has improved so much and it shouldn't be too hot." She continued to natter away about her plans for the day as Jarrod went out the door and Silas entered the room to pour coffee for both of them. He also freshened Jarrod's cup and filled cups for Heath and Nick so they would be waiting.

"Thank you Silas." Victoria said. "What have you prepared this morning?"

"I decided on the Virginia ham and fried potatoes, Mrs. Barkley. I made some of that red eye gravy that you liked so much too."

"Oh, I'm glad. I wish I had known you knew how to make that before. It seems that you have began making several new dishes in the last few months." Victoria said in a gentle teasing fashion. She knew that Silas had begun making some of the southern dishes he had known as a boy after Heath had come to them. The young man had been raised by women from the south, and had grown up with southern cooking at it's best. The family had greatly enjoyed Silas's efforts so far, and Heath's quiet pleasure at seeing familiar dishes among what was often an unfamiliar plethora of food, had been pleasing to both Silas and Victoria.

Silas smiled at her and continued over to the sideboard, checking to be sure that all the chafing dishes were staying warm. He was happy that he could prepare some of the dishes his own mother had cooked for their family in the years they had been allowed to stay together. He could still see the small shack that had been their home. It had been crowded but full of love. His mother, father, three older brothers, and four sisters had all lived in the two rooms. That had been before. Before the man that had owned his parents, and their children, had been forced to sell his 'livestock' to pay his gambling debts.

He had ruthlessly sold off his slaves regardless of family ties. Only the youngest of children had been permitted to go with their mothers by anything other than chance. His brothers had gone first, then his father, followed by two of his sisters. He never knew what had happened to them. He had been next, sold as a kitchen boy to a man from Atlanta. His last memory of his family was seeing his mother, the two youngest girls clinging in desperation to her skirts as she waved goodbye to her youngest son. He had been twelve years old, and he later found out that his mother and two youngest sisters had been sold to a man in Louisiana who had put them to work in the fields picking cotton. His two younger sisters had died from the fever less than a year later. His mother had carried on for another year, but had died from what could only be called a broken heart.

His own journey to freedom had been painful both physically and mentally. He had been beaten almost all of his life by those men who felt they could own another man as if he were no different than a horse or a dog. The smallest of errors could earn you a beating, a major infraction could mean that you were whipped, or even killed out of hand. There was no justice in the south for men of color. So when he had reached his sixteenth birthday he had fled the small plantation where he had worked. He had made his way, with only hunger and fear as his companions, west to the new territory of California. There were lots of people there, not as many as would come when they discovered gold in 1849, but it was busy, and there were jobs for a man who could cook, even a black one.

Prejudice had followed him from the south though, and life, while better in some ways, was still hard. He was free, but there was almost no chance for him to get ahead, to make himself better. He almost desperately wanted to learn how to read better, he had been taught some by his mother. She had been the nanny of some of their owner's daughters, and had learned some of the reading and writing when they had been tutored. She had passed it to her children, hoping that it would make their lives better. Silas had a small bible, it's cover wrinkled and torn, that his father had found thrown away. He had carried it back to his wife like a treasure, and she had read from aloud it every night, slowly sounding out the words. The promise that the good book had given him had led him to California, the grace it spoke of had led him to meet Tom Barkley there, and find all the things he had longed for in the Barkley family. Now he was secure in his place, loved and wanted, and treated with respect.

He looked up from his memories as the three Barkley brothers came into the room. As was typical they entered in age order, and with the middle son making most of the noise. Nick Barkley was not a man to be ignored, and quiet was not a part of his makeup. He and Jarrod were discussing something about the Barkley shipping concerns, and why if they owned a freight company they couldn't get feed on a regular basis. Heath, silent as usual, was following along behind. Nick stopped and kissed his mother on the cheek before taking his seat as Jarrod returned to his. Heath gave a shy smile to his sister, and then a smile and nod to Victoria before he seated himself at her right.

After the prayer they each served themselves and started to eat. Nick heartily approved the ham steak and red-eye gravy, and proceeded to pile his plate with a thick ham slice and potatoes. Victoria noted a smile on Heath's face as he returned from the sideboard and saw him whisper something to Silas as he helped himself to several biscuits. The volume of food that her two ranchers ate was sometimes astounding to her. That they both remained trim was a testament to the hard work they did. She was pleased to note that in the last three month Heath, who had been much to skinny for his frame when he had first come to them, was filling out nicely in the shoulders. While he never spoke of it, she knew that meals had been few and far between for the young man when he wasn't hired on somewhere. Unfortunately his anger and loneliness had kept him on the move between jobs, leaving many opportunities for missed meals. She had made it her goal, with Silas' enthusiastic help, to be sure that Health would miss no more meals.

She listened as Jarrod and Nick continued to talk about the freight business, and then the talk turned to everyone's schedule for the day. Audra shared her intent to go to town with Jarrod to spend the day and the night with one of her friends. They would shop and talk the day away. Jarrod was in court today, and had hopes of bringing the case to a satisfactory end that evening, satisfactory for his client that was. Nick detailed his plan for surveying the levies. It had been raining in the mountains, and that meant more water here in the valley, and that meant leaking levies and winter floods if the levies weren't in good shape. He looked at Heath. "Are you going to take care of that well in the west pasture?"

Heath shook his head, and buttered another biscuit. He dunked the buttered half in the remains of the gravy on his plate. He didn't seem inclined to answer his brother any further.

Nick, not yet used to his quiet brother's ways, found it frustrating when Heath didn't answer verbally. He scowled. "Well, what are you doing?" he finally asked.

Heath finished sopping up the rest of his gravy and then looked up at Nick. "I'm taking the framing lumber to Silas' church for that addition that they are building. I already got the lumber mostly loaded and I figure to leave as soon as Silas is ready."

"WHAT!" Nick bellowed, hazel eyes blazing.

"Nicholas! Keep your voice down while at the table." Victoria reprimanded.

"All right Mother." Nick said with no remorse, and everyone knew the reprimand wouldn't do any good. He turned his attention back to his younger brother. "I shouldn't have to remind you that this is a working ranch, we have things to do around here. The lumber can go over on Saturday."

"No, it can't." Heath said simply. He placed his napkin beside the plate, and looked over at Silas. "That was mighty fine Silas. Can't say when I last tasted red-eye gravy that good. Thank you." He looked back at Victoria. "May I be excused Mother? I need to finish loading the lumber so I'm ready to go when Silas is ready." A Victoria's nod he started to rise, only to be interrupted by Nick.

"Now wait a minute here! I said that lumber could go over on Saturday, you got work to do here." He rumbled.

Heath rose to his feet, and pushed in his chair. His whole posture spoke of his determination to remain calm, and equally to do what he had said he was going to do. He looked Nick in the eye. "The men are there TODAY to frame the addition, they can't work on Saturday. You already know that. You agreed that we would bring the wood WHENEVER the men were ready. Now, I know there is work to be done here, and I will get to it today when I am done dropping off the lumber, even if I have to miss lunch and dinner to do it. If you have a problem with that, we can take it up outside. You'll know where to find me, I'll be finishing up loadin' the wood." With that he spun on his heel and left the room. They all sat there in silence until the door banged closed behind him. Then Audra's giggle broke the silence.

Nick glared at her, and started to rise, throwing his napkin down on the table. Jarrod reached out and grabbed his arm. "I hope you are not going outside Brother Nick. I think you would best be served by staying here and finishing your coffee."

"And what is that supposed to mean?" Nick barked. Victoria hid a smile behind her napkin, and noticed Audra doing the same.

"That means, my loud brother, that you did promise to send the lumber when the men were done with the foundation, whenever that was. If you recall we were all in the parlor talking with the Reverend Green when you made that promise." Jarrod said, a touch of steel in his voice.

"Yes, Nicholas, I recall the conversation myself." Victoria said, placing her napkin down, and meeting her son's eyes straight on. "The men are due to move on to another church near Lodi at the end of the week. If they do not finish the addition now, there is no telling how long the church will have to wait for it to get done. Most of the parishioners cannot spare the time away from their jobs to do the work." She said speaking of the group of men, missionaries of a sort, who went to rural black churches and did building work as needed. The local black church, of which Silas was a member, had needed an addition for a small bible class for the children. Victoria had offered the lumber free of charge to the church, which, while it was rich in spirit, was not rich in funds.

Nick, backed into the corner by his own promises, sat back in his chair. "Well… he could have told me before that it was today that they needed it."

"If I recall correctly a boy brought the information over last night while you were over at the bunk house playing poker. Since you didn't come back before Heath went to bed, I don't believe he had an opportunity to do so. And I believe he just told you what his plans were when you asked him." Jarrod replied logically.

"I have to schedule crews, know where everyone is. A little notice would be nice." Nick said.

"True, but the short notice was not Heath's fault, and you shouldn't take it out on him. He is simply fulfilling YOUR promise Brother Nick. I would think you would be happy about that. After all now you don't have to take time off from YOUR busy schedule to do it." Jarrod said

Victoria spoke as Jarrod finished. "In that busy schedule I expect you to remember that I expect both you AND your brother here for dinner at the very least, regardless of how much work there is to do."

Nick harrumphed and stood. "I better get on with that 'busy schedule'." He started for the door, then stopped and faced them all. "It's not like I wasn't going to keep my promise you know. I just forgot is all." With that he spun around and left, the slamming door echoing through the house.

Victoria, Jarrod, and Audra exchanged smiling looks. Things were never dull at the Barkley family table. Especially in the last three months.

**Part 3  
**  
Nick Barkley watched as Heath slid another piece of lumber into the growing pile on the heavy wagon. He pushed it into place with more force than necessary, and it slammed against the side of the wagon box. He slid in the next piece in just the same way, and Nick knew that this quiet younger brother of his was more than slightly upset. Heath had shown himself to be level headed and able to take a lot before his temper engaged, but Nick had also found out that he seemed to know just the right buttons to push to get that very Barkley temper flaming. He noticed that Heath had removed his shirt, and in the early morning light he could see the white scars that crisscrossed the younger man's back.

He had first seen them when they were working on the south pasture fence. It had been blazingly hot, and everyone else had shed their shirts long before, but his new brother had gone on with his shirt unbuttoned but still on. Even with the shaky footing that they were on, Nick had found himself concerned when he noticed the boy was very flushed. Nick had told himself that it was just the concern that anyone would have for another person, but he had nagged Heath relentlessly through the afternoon until that temper had snapped, and Heath had very quietly and succinctly told him what he could do with his concern. That had of course led to another of their many fights, during which the blue shirt had been ripped nearly off the thin cowboy. The hands, prompted by an exasperated Duke, had pulled them apart. They had strained to get back at each other's throat for a few moments then had retreated to neutral territory. Nick had happened to turn back to glare at his brother, when he had caught sight of the scars.

They had stood out boldly on the tanned skin, white and painful looking. Nick had stood there, his jaw hanging as he stared. As if he could feel the weight of that stare Heath had spun on his heel and glared at Nick, a challenging look in his eyes. But also in those eyes was a profound shame, a look that Nick had for some reason wanted to erase. He had taken a step forward, not even sure of what he was going to do, but Health had turned again and gone back to the fencing, his back bare and straight as a board. He hadn't said a word to anyone the rest of the day. When they had headed home he had slipped on his vest, and had disappeared up the back steps telling Silas he wasn't hungry. Nick, who had followed him into the kitchen, had seen Silas lean close to his brother and say something in a low voice. The proud blond head had dropped for a moment then had come back up with a shake and a quick lopsided smile. Silas had turned around with a sad smile on his face that had faded quickly when he saw Nick watching. He had simply shook his head and went back to fixing dinner, a dinner that Nick had found himself strangely unable to eat.

He still didn't know why this younger brother of his had been whipped so badly, or by whom. He had turned over many possibilities in his mind, discarding most as unlikely as he had come to realize the depth of character in Heath, but still wondering all the same. Health was now taking off his shirt when it grew hot, but was remaining steadfastly silent about the whip marks. It was all very frustrating to Nick, who felt he should do something, but wasn't sure what.

After watching the pile of lumber grow in the wagon for several minutes he intentionally scuffed his feet as he approached behind the younger man. Startling Heath was not a good idea. He had found that out early in their relationship. The boy had reactions like a rattlesnake and, if he had a knife to hand, which he always did, he could be deadly. That had engendered in Nick another feeling that he couldn't quite identify. It was almost like he was proud that HIS brother was such a dangerous and capable man, someone to be reckoned with. Nick didn't examine the feeling too closely. He had come to accept the fact that Heath was staying, and that he wasn't to blame for the actions of his parents, but he wasn't really sure how he felt about Heath yet, and no one was going to force him to decide before he was ready.

Heath turned at the sound of his footsteps, and looked at him defiantly. There was that surge of, (could it be pride?), again. The boy might not be big on talk, but he would back up anything he said. Nick waved a placating hand. "Calm down I ain't here to fight you, as happy as that might make me feel. I forgot about the lumber having to be there as soon as possible or I wouldn't have opened my big mouth. I….guess I shoulda done more listening and less talking." Nick said gruffly. He wasn't used to apologizing, and he had found himself doing it all together too much to this boy, sometimes sincerely like now, and at other times simply as a sop to his mother or Jarrod.

Heath simply stared at him for a moment with the eyes that reminded him so much of his father, now that he had let himself see it. Those eyes were the windows to the soul beneath the quiet exterior, and Nick knew that he had seen far more of the character of this boy in those eyes than the rest of the family had so far. Heath seemed to relax, and he nodded then turned back to his work. Nick knew that was going to be all of it if Heath had his way, but the older man found he wanted something more, he wanted to know that it was all right, that there were no hard feelings, that his new younger brother did not think badly of him for not remembering and seeming uncharitable. This was another feeling that he decided not to examine. Instead he went over and started helping with the loading. Heath shot him a quick glance, but said nothing. They worked side by side for several minutes, each moving smoothly and efficiently with the ease of long practice.

As they completed the loading there came that other feeling again Nick had been noticing lately, that satisfaction of a job well done, a job completed at the side of someone who was part of his family, who was part of the ranch…..part of him. He had missed that feeling after his father had been killed. Neither of his brothers worked the ranch enough to really be there like his father had been, like Heath was becoming. Nick put the last piece of lumber on the wagon and turned to find Heath putting on his shirt. He took in a deep breath and went over to Heath's side, and dropped a hand on one of the broad shoulders. "After you drop off the lumber and bring Silas back here why don't you come out and join me looking at the levy's. By one or two I should be at the one near Detrich's, you can bring out some lunch and we can finish together." It was a peace offering. He didn't know what else to do, how else to make it right with Heath. At least this way he was sure that the boy ate his meals, thus making his mother happy, and having another eye to look at the levy's would be worth it. He was surprised to find he actually looked forward to it. The question was would Heath take the offering for what it was?

The light blue eyes turned to him, and seemed to look into his soul. Then his mouth quirked in that silly half smile and he nodded, "Sounds good Nick. Silas baked some fresh bread today and I bet he'd make us some mighty fine sandwiches if I ask him real nice."

Nick, pleased at the acceptance, decided to do what he would have done with either of his other brothers. He shook the slighter man a little by his grip on the shoulder and then gave him a thump on the back. "Ha! You got Silas twisted around your little finger little brother. Bet you could get cookies out of him too, if you tried hard." Nick found himself rewarded by a twinkle in the blue eyes, and more of the crooked smile.

"I'll do just that, big brother. You count on it." Heath put on his hat that had been hanging on the post near his shirt. He looked toward the house, and saw Silas poking his head out the back door, looking in their direction. He waved a hand at the black man and turned back to his brother. "Looks like Silas is ready. Gotta get goin'. I'll meet you later." He sung up onto the wagon seat and gathered the reins of the large Percheron horses they kept for heavy hauling. The horses both flicked their ears back to catch his words as he spoke softly to them, so softly that Nick couldn't hear it until he took several steps closer, then he only heard the last. "……so you boys step out lively now and get us back on time cause my brother is countin' on me for lunch." With that Heath shook the reins and gave a click of his tongue to the horse, who after nodding as if they had understood, leaned into the traces. Nick stood watching as the team paused at the back door to allow Silas to climb aboard, and then they moved out again. He watched them out of sight, and with a satisfied smile on his face that he would have been surprised to know was there, he went toward the barn to saddle Coco.

**Part 4  
**  
Heath and Silas had made good time getting to the church. The horses were fresh, and eager to be out and pulling. They both enjoyed the quietness of the road, only the pounding of the large hooves, the rattling of the trace chains, and the creak of the wheels were to be heard. They spoke occasionally, and then only to point out something of particular interest. The rest of the time they simply rode along. Silas would start humming a hymn, and Heath would join in. It was an enjoyable time for them both, and they smiled at each other in contentment as they came in sight of the church. Heath expertly guided the horses around to the back of the building where five men, all of them black, were sitting on the completed foundation, most of them smoking, some dozing in the warmth of the morning sun. As Heath back the wagon up to the foundation they rose to their feet.

Heath was aware of the glances being thrown his way by the men, but ignored them as he went about ground hitching the horses. Silas lowered himself from the high seat and went to speak with the Reverend Green who had come from inside the church at the sound of the wagon. Heath went to lean on the back wheel, waiting to find out exactly what the plan was. He returned the regard of the men calmly, and with no expression on his face. They slowly seemed to get used to his presence and went back to what they had been doing, except for one man, who looked to be the youngest of the group.

He was a large young man, no older than Heath himself, but large in the chest, and with bulging arms. He stood almost three inches taller than Heath as he came to stand in front of the cowboy. He looked tossed a quick look over his shoulder at the reverend and Silas who were deep in conversation near the church doorway, then he cast a grin at his fellows. He reached out with one beefy hand and pushed at Heath's shoulder, or would have if the shoulder had been where it had been when he started reaching. He suddenly found himself toe to toe with Heath, blue eyes burning into his own.

"You got some problem with me mister?" Heath said, his face not showing any fear at facing down a larger man. The other man took an involuntary step back, not having expected any such aggressive response. Then, realizing what he had done, and how it might look to his coworkers, he stepped back up. He poked one finger into the chest of the blond cowboy standing in front of him.

"We don't need no white men around here bossin' us. This is black folks business, you should be leavin' right now afore you get hurt. Buildin' is dangerous business you know, no telling what might happen to someone who gets in the way." He suggested, trying to push at the chest of the other man. He found his wrist in an iron tight grip, and felt a sharp prick just above his belt buckle. Looking down he saw his one hand in the left hand of the other man, and his right hand holding a wicked looking double edged knife that was just barely touching his stomach.

"Now I thought this was God's business, not black OR white folks', seein' as it's his house and all. As to the bossin' I'm just here to drive the wagon, and drop off the lumber, I reckon the Reverend Green can do the bossin' on his own if he has a mind to. Now why don't you just wonder on back to that stump you was sitting on and I'll just go back to waiting on the Reverend and Silas, and we'll just pretend that you didn't just about make you a bad mistake." The voice of the cowboy was low, and probably didn't carry to the others who were watching the confrontation with interest. The man realized they couldn't see the knife that was pricking his belly either. It didn't take no figuring on his part to realize that this wasn't going to work out well for him. He took a step back, and the iron grip was instantly released. The knife disappeared almost as quickly, though exactly where he wasn't sure. He turned and went back to the stump where he had been dozing in the sun, avoiding the eyes of the other men, but seeing their smiles out of the corner of his eyes. Let them laugh, he was pretty pleased with where his innards were, and he was convinced that had he not backed down, they would now be on the outside of his skin. He might have chosen the wrong white boy to try to bully, but he wasn't THAT dumb! After sitting on the stump he glanced at the white man who had gone back to leaning casually on the wagon wheel as if nothing had happened. He didn't seem near as small and easy to intimidate as he had at first.

Silas and the Reverend Green, unaware of the tension they had missed, finished talking and came over to the wagon. Heath straightened away form the wheel and removed his hat, offering his hand to the reverend, who shook it heartily.

"Thank you Brother Barkley, for your family's generous donation of the lumber and your own time to bring it over. I know that you are always busy on your ranch, and the honor you do us is a blessing, as is the additional work that Brother Silas has said you have agreed to do for us."

'Happy to do it Reverend. Silas has told us all about the good job you do here, and the need for the bible school for the little ones. My family's got a lot of lumber and it's good to know that some can be used for such a good purpose." Heath said, ignoring the part about his own contribution, wishing Silas had not mentioned it. He wasn't sure how well his gift was going to come out. He cast a glance at the wagon. "I wasn't sure exactly where you wanted the lumber unloaded, but this looked a likely place. I can move the wagon if you would like it someplace else." he said.

"No, you have it right where we had planned to ask you to bring it. The men will have you unloaded in no time, and you and Brother Silas can get on your way. Though I hope I can persuade you to come into the house and try some of Mrs. Green's apple pie. She just finished baking it about ten minutes ago, and I was forced to leave the house least I be tempted to eat it all myself." He gestured to the small house that stood to the side of the church where he and his family lived.

"You don't have to ask me twice when it comes to apple pie Reverend. I was fortunate to be able to try some of Mrs. Green's pie at the fair last month. It weren't no mistake that she won the first prize."

Reverend Green beamed with pleasure at the compliment to his wife. That a member of the Barkley family recalled that his wife had won the pie baking contest was an honor to that good woman. "You be sure to mention that to her if you would be so kind Brother Barkley. Pride goeth before the fall, but I have to say that the woman has been blessed by the Lord with reason to be proud when it comes to baking." He patted his ample stomach, "As you can see I take full advantage of that fact." The three men laughed. The reverend spoke briefly to one of the waiting men and then led the other two toward his house for the promised coffee and a piece of pie. More than a few curious glances followed them.

An hour later Heath and Silas were on the road leading back to the ranch. Mrs. Green's pie had been everything the Reverend had promised, and the three men had enjoyed their talk over the pie and coffee. Heath had been surprised to hear that there had been several incidents in the black community that had not been made common knowledge. Not that he made it in to town often enough to pick up on the regular gossip. It seemed there was a group of men in the area intent on terrorizing Black, Chinese and Hispanic families. Barns had been burned and fields near harvest trampled. Two nights ago it had become worse when a black man and his wife had been stopped on their way home from town. The man had been badly beaten and his wife had been assaulted, both were badly injured, and the black community was both angered and afraid.

While they were no longer slaves, they were certainly not afforded the rights and protections of the white man. They didn't expect too much effort to be put forth on finding those responsible. Heath had gently defended the sheriff, who he had found to be a man of principle, and whom he felt would not be swayed by the color of the victim's skin. The Reverend had agreed, but had added that the sheriff couldn't do anything alone, and there was no one stepping forward with any information regarding these men.

Heath had frowned over the thought that such prejudice seemed to have reared its head here. He was used to such things, having been both a witness to and a victim of it all his life. He couldn't understand why people couldn't just take others as they were, regardless of their color or religion, it just didn't make no sense to go off hating someone for stupid reasons. He had met plenty of people that were worth hating, and they looked just like everyone else. The Reverend had warned Silas of traveling alone into town, and Health had promised, over Silas' quite protests, that someone would be traveling with him until the men responsible were found.

Now as they started back to the ranch Heath was pondering the problem. Maybe if he spoke to Nick they could offer a few men to the sheriff to help out. Heath himself would be willing to do some tracking the next time the raiders struck. There weren't too many people he couldn't track wherever they might try to go. Heath was considering exactly how to broach the subject to his older brother when suddenly two men in black masks appeared from behind some bushes, shotguns in hand, blocking the road. A quick glance over his shoulder showed two more men coming from behind rocks behind them. Heath pulled the team to a stop, rising to his feet in the box, and grimly exchanged glances with Silas. He kept his hand away from his gun, but switched the reins from his right hand to his left, leaving it free. The shotguns could tear them both apart from this range.

"What can we do for you?" He called to the two men in front of them. He turned his head a little so that he could keep a watch on the other two out of the corner of his eye. He didn't show any fear, but he would admit to being a little anxious. This wasn't good.

"Shoulda known it would be the bastard that they sent along to give away good lumber to the niggers. Wouldn't want to send a real man to do that kinda work." The man on the right said with a nasty laugh. The other men joined in. Heath could tell by the sound that the men behind them were 30 or 40 feet back. That was good. He hoped they stayed there.

"What do ya want?" He asked again, ignoring the slur against both himself and Silas. They had both heard too much of it for it to bother them any more. He could feel that Silas was tense and ready at his side. The man might be old, but he had led a hard life, and was not feeble or untried. Heath felt a little bit of optimism.

"We want you and your family to stop helping the trash around here. You ain't exactly pure but at least you're white, there ain't no call for you to be givin' stuff to them. We don't need 'em or want 'em here, and we're gonna drive 'em out, and those what help them too, even if it's you Barkley's."

Heath couldn't keep the contempt from showing on his face. "Fine! You made your speech, so why don't you and your friends crawl back under your rock and let us get on. I'll be sure and share your thoughts with my brothers. I'm sure they'll give it all the consideration it deserves." He turned his body slightly so that he was almost standing with his right side to the men in front of them. He caught Silas' eye, and with a small jerk of his head indicated the empty wagon bed. The thick bed wouldn't have stopped a forty-five bullet, but the shotguns would not penetrate it at that range. He took up the slack in the reins, sending a signal to the restive horses that something was about to happen.

The man who was speaking swore, and jerked his horse around so he could move in closer to the wagon, no doubt intending to teach Heath a lesson. That was what Heath had been waiting for, as the man's shotgun swung away his hand swept down for his gun. At his side, Silas flung himself back into the bed of the wagon, out of sight. Heath's gun came to bear on the second man in front of them. With out sighting he fired, and knew he had hit his target even as he swung around and snapped a shot at one of the men behind him. At the same time he yelled to the huge horses, and twitched the reins. They took off eagerly, frightened by the sound of the guns. The leader of the group, caught unaware was still trying to bring his shotgun to bear when the shoulder of one of the huge draft horse nearly knocked his horse of it's feet as the Percheron moved into a mighty trot. The blood of their ancestors, bred to carry armored knights into battle and haul dull plows through rocky ground was in full force as the two horses quickly moved into a gallop, guided by the experienced hand at the reins. Heath heard the bellow of a shotgun behind him, and felt what could have been a series of bee stings in his left shoulder. The distance had been too great for an effective spread of the pellets, but he had caught a few it seemed.

The Percherons were in full gallop now, and Heath turned his attention to keeping the empty wagon on the road. He spared a glance over his shoulder for the men who had stopped them. He knew he had probably killed the man in front, and was equally sure that the man in back had been wounded. He doubted that any men who would ambush wearing masks and carrying shotguns would have the courage to run them down in the middle of the day when they were expecting an attack, so he wasn't really worried, but it was best to be wary. He threw a look at Silas who had climbed to his feet in the wildly swaying box and was hanging on to the back of the seat for dear life. Heath grinned at him, a full sunny grin unlike his normal half smile.

"Looks like we done made a few enemies Silas." He yelled above the noise of the racing wagon.

Silas shook his head with a grin. He couldn't believe what had just happened. He had never seen anyone so fast with a gun as Heath Barkley, and so deadly. He looked at the young man, still standing in the box, working the reins to the mighty horses, guiding them easily down the road, a grin of pure joy on his face. Never had the resemblance to Tom Barkley been as strong.

He saw the small flecks of blood on the shoulder of the blue shirt, but knew that the pellets hadn't done much damage. He knew if he had been alone that he might not have survived the encounter. He laughed a little and answered the words of the young man. "I reckon we both have had them before Mr. Heath, and the good Lord willing will live to see them get their just rewards."

The young man laughed, and nodded his agreement. It seemed he wouldn't have to try too hard to find a way to persuade Nick to help out the sheriff with these men. If there was one thing Heath had come to know about his brother Nick, it was his sense of right and wrong. Nick's sense of justice burned just as bright as the one that burned in Jarrod, but was just a little more untamed and likely to flare out of control. This incident, on Barkley land, and with threats to the Barkley's themselves, should just about fan those flames into a conflagration of epic proportions.

**Part 5  
**  
Nick Barkley was crouching at the base of one of the levies that held back the river that edged the western side of the Barkley holdings when he heard a rider approaching quickly from the direction of the ranch. No employee of his would be riding a horse at that speed except in an emergency so he straightened and moved back to where Coco stood ground hitched. He could see that the rider was Ciego, the hostler that took care of the horses at the ranch. He felt a surge of worry. Ciego didn't do anything he absolutely didn't have to, and that he did at as slow a pace as possible. Something must have happened. He stepped forward as Ciego pulled his horse to a stop.

"Senor Nick! I am glad I found you so quickly. The Senora Barkley, she say I am to find you and tell you to come back to the ranch before I go and get the doctor, the Sheriff, and Senor Jarrod." He wrenched the horse around and would have taken off if Nick hadn't grabbed at the halter of the horse.

"Wait a minute!" he bellowed. "What the hell happened?"

Ciego shot him a quick smile. "Sorry Senor Nick. I was in a hurry. Your brother, Senor Heath, he was shot by four banditos who stopped the wagon. The Senora, she wants the doctor there, and the Sheriff. Senor Heath he is saying that he is okay, but no one is listening. The left shoulder of his shirt was bloody. Silas, he say that Senor Heath killed one of the men, and shot another." Ciego related breathlessly.

Nick let loose the halter and waved Ciego on. "You best get on into town. Come back with Jarrod and the Sheriff, We don't know where those bandits might have went to. They could be waiting for someone else." Ciego nodded and spurred his horse forward. Nick watched him out of sight toward the bridge that was another mile upstream, thoughts flying wildly through his mind.

Heath had been shot, by four bandits in the middle of the morning, and had killed one and wounded another, evidently getting himself and Silas away from them. Nick shook his head. The boy was shaping up to be a trouble magnet. Couldn't let him out of his sight without something going all to hell. Of course he seemed to come out of it all right, look at that thing with Wallant. Now it seemed he could handle bandits too. Nick swung himself up onto Coco and reined her around toward the house. He wondered what bandits could have wanted with an empty freight wagon. It didn't make too much sense, but he was going to get to the bottom of it. No one messed with a Barkley and got away with it, even the newest one. He spurred Coco forward, anxious to get home.

In his room Heath was trying to talk Victoria out of using the liniment to clean his shoulder. He knew it would hurt like hell when the stuff hit the wounds, and he couldn't be sure that he could control the pain, keep from swearing, or making a fool of himself. Not something he was going to do in front of his new mother. And, as far as he knew she didn't know about the scars on his back. It wasn't something a woman should see, especially a high-class woman like Victoria Barkley. She was as far away from the darkness of Carterson prison as the sun was from the bottom of the sea, and he meant to keep it that way. One was the past and the other the future, and if he had his way never the twain would meet. She stood before him now, hands on her hips, and he suddenly had a flash of Nick in the same position. So, that was where he had gotten that pose. The funny thing was the small woman in front of him intimidated him more than Nick ever would.

"Heath Barkley. I have been doctoring men on this ranch for more years than you have been alive, now take off that shirt and let me clean the wound and bandage it until Howard gets here." Victoria demanded, frustrated with the stubborn refusal of the young man before her. He had agreed to come up to his room, but that had been as far as she had gotten him. He was adamant in not removing his shirt, to allow her access to the wound.

"It ain't hardly bleeding at all, and it's not hurtin' either. I'd just as soon wait for the doctor, if it's just the same to you ma'am" he said to her.

Victoria mentally stepped back as she heard the 'ma'am'. She knew he must be upset if he was using that hated appellation. Obviously her new son had not yet come to realize that she would have her way, and she meant to have that shoulder cleaned and bandaged before Howard Merar arrived. She wanted to assure herself that it wasn't worse than he was telling her. She had ample experience with stoic Barkley men ignoring injuries. She shook her head. "I will not allow you to simply sit there when I can take care of it for you. Now remove your shirt….." she broke off as she noticed Heath's eyes had shifted from her to the doorway. She turned just as Nick came into view, still dusty from his ride.

"Well, you're sitting up so it can't be all that bad." He observed to his brother then took in the scene before him. His mother was standing with her hands on her hips and face flushed. Heath was on the bed, with the bloody shirt still on. By now Nick would have expected his mother to be at the boy with that liniment she was so fond of…..It came to him then. The boy wouldn't take off his shirt in front of her, because of the scars. He felt the blue eyes on him, and met them with his own. He saw the plea in the blue depths, and was somewhat amused to note that the first thing his brother had asked of him was to keep his mother at bay. He put a hand on Victoria's shoulder.

"Tell you what Mother, I'm sure you have some things to get ready for when the doc gets here, so why don't you take care of that while I help Heath here with his shirt and a bandage."

Victoria had seen the look pass between her two sons, but wasn't sure what it was that they had shared. She looked suspiciously at Nick. 'Silas is taking care of that. I'm ready to clean the wound and bandage it myself."

"I know that mother, but let's let Heath get a little more used to us before he starts strippin' down in front of you. He has delicate sensibilities you know…wouldn't want to make him blush now would you?" Nick said jovially. Then he became serious. "And, I want to hear this story before the Sheriff and Jarrod show up, and start interruptin' with all their questions."

Victoria looked from one to the other, and threw her hands up in exasperation. "Fine. You take care of your brother." She said to Nick then turned on Heath. "You, young man, will let your brother look at that shoulder and will stay here until the doctor looks at you. I mean it." She swept out of the room quickly, leaving the men to look after her, one with amusement and the other with trepidation.

"She's one scary woman when she gets to goin'. Ain't right that someone that small can boss a man around that way." Heath observed. Nick turned a smile on him then frowned.

"What happened?" he said as he came over and looked at Heath's shoulder. He could see where the buckshot had shredded the shirt. It looked like there were five or six separate holes, and he knew that the wounds would be painful. The bleeding had stopped. He tugged at the sleeve of the shirt. "Get this off," he said before Heath could begin talking. The younger man tossed him a frown and began unbuttoning his shirt.

"Could just wait for the doctor just fine you know. I ain't quite that delicate." He mumbled. At Nick's guffaw he smiled a little, and peeled of the shirt, wincing as he moved his shoulder.

Nick frowned when he saw the wince. He didn't like that. He felt like he should have been able to do something to keep his brother from hurting, foolish as the feeling was. He grabbed the liniment bottle off the bedside table, and smiled at Heath's grimace. He put some liniment on the clean cloth that had been with it and looked at his younger brother. "This is gonna hurt like hell. How do you want it fast or slow?"

Heath sighed. There didn't seem to be any escaping it. "Fast" he said. Nick nodded and tilted the bottle over the injured shoulder, using the rag to catch any that flowed past the area. Heath dug his hands into the coverlet of the bed and gritted his teeth as his shoulder erupted in fire. He lowered his head, to hide the grimace. He didn't want Nick to know how much it hurt, to think he was weak. He decided he didn't want to know why he was so desperate to keep Nick's good opinion all of a sudden. He liked the man well enough now that they had come to a sort of peace, and he guessed he was a good brother, but they hadn't really seemed to move past that. Heath wasn't even sure what there was past that. He just knew that he watched Nick and Jarrod, or Jarrod and Eugene, or even Nick and Audra, and he wanted…….he wanted it to be like that. He wanted to belong.

He had come here looking only for a name, a heritage. He had found so much more than that, and it seemed greedy to keep wanting, keep needing more. And the funny thing was what he wanted most he was pretty sure he would never have. This man, this brother, Nick Barkley was a man that Heath could look up to. He was uncompromising in his principles, and not afraid to speak his mind, and back up everything he said. He loved the ranch as if it was a living thing, and he tended it with every piece of himself. Lately Heath had found himself…..showing off, there was no other word for it. If something needed doing he did it, faster and better than anyone else. If a horse needing riding, he rode it. Anything he could do to show Nick Barkley that he was…worthy. He wasn't going to foul that up by making like a baby over some little bit of pain.

Nick grimaced in sympathy as Heath bent forward in pain. But he never made a sound. The boy was tough as shoe leather. Nick knew how much that liniment must have hurt, having had enough of it himself in the past. The younger man was something all right. This boy was a Barkley through and through. Nick was beginning to wonder just how stupid he had been to deny it for as long as he had. He gently patted the wounds, making sure he cleaned off the blood. Heath sat stoically through the process, making no sound as Nick wound a bandage loosely around the shoulder. Finally he finished, and he put the rest of the bandage to the side, then he dragged the single chair in the room over to the side of the bed and sat down.

"Now, tell me what happened." He demanded, both because he wanted to know, and because he wanted to take Heath's mind off the pain he had just inflicted.

Heath told him everything that had happened after he had looked up to see the two men in the road, unconsciously playing down his own part in the incident. He shook his head when he was done. "Wasn't paying attention, or they wouldn't have got the drop on us. Must be getting soft staying here and all. Coulda got Silas killed."

Nick shook his head, sensing that he wasn't getting all of the story, he'd have to talk to Silas later. "Seems to me that since you both made it back alive; you did okay. Any hint on who the fellows might have been?"

Heath shook his head. "No clue. I don't really know a lot of people here outside of you all and the ranch hands. Don't spend enough time in town to be used to voices yet. Coulda been anyone from the mayor to the town drunk, or fellows from somewhere else all together. Maybe Silas has a better idea, but he didn't say anything after. I sent a couple of men to see if they left the man I killed, but they were all gone. When we get done with this doctor foolishness maybe we can get out there and backtrack 'em."

"Maybe you just wounded both of them, and they rode off." Nick suggested.

Heath shook his head again. "No, he was dead." He said simply. Nick noted there was no doubt in the boy's eyes. He had shot to kill, and was confident that where he had shot was where he hit. He nodded, taking Heath's word for it.

He stood up. "Well is shouldn't be long until the doc is out here. I didn't know Ciego could ride that fast, never saw him move faster than a walk in all the years he's been here." He said with a grin.

'Your mama sure lit a shuck under him. I thought he was gonna make it into the saddle with out touchin' a stirrup." Heath agreed with his lopsided grin.

Nick started toward the door then stopped. He didn't turn around. "She's gonna see them or find out about them some day anyway, don't you think it would be better for her to find out from you rather than some loud-mouth ranch hand?" there was silence from behind him, not that he had really expected a response. He went out of the room and down the stairs, finding his mother on the way up. He smiled at her, and she paused at his side.

"Did you finish?" She asked, still slightly put out to have been banished form the room.

'Yeah, it's all cleaned up. He'll just stay there until the doc comes. I wanted to talk to Silas for a few moments, get his side of the story."

Victoria looked at him closely. "You think that Heath didn't tell you everything?" She asked. She had thought that Nick had moved past the time when he was suspicious of everything that Heath said. She was happy to see Nick shake his head emphatically.

'No, I think he told me all the important things, but I think he left out a few details when it comes to how he got them out of it. To hear him tell it the whole thing was down to pure luck. I think there was a bit more to it. I also want to find out if Silas recognized any voices, Heath's too new around here."

Victoria nodded and with a pat to Nick's arm continued up the stairs. "I'll sit with Heath while we wait. Be sure to show the doctor up as soon as he arrives."

Nick watched her go up, and wondered if his tough younger brother would be able to show her the painful reminders of some terrible past that he wore on his skin. Shaking his head, he went toward the kitchen. "Silas!" he bellowed.

**Part 6  
**  
Victoria swept into the small room that had become Heath's. He was sitting on the bed, head down, obviously deep in thought. He must have heard her skirts for he raised his head and looked at her. He was shirtless, and she could see the bandage that Nick had wrapped around the shoulder. Not exactly a neat job, but she supposed it would do. She seated herself in the chair that had been drawn to the side of the bed, and found herself almost eye to eye with the young man. There was something in the sky blue eyes that she had not seen there before, even with all the things they had gone through in the last three months, shame. Even given the circumstances of his birth, and the efforts of small-minded people to tell him differently the young man had always been proud of his mother, of his upbringing, he had never shown the "proper" shame for the sinfulness of his conception that some would have him show. She had applauded that pride, and recognized another part of her murdered husband in this son he had never known. Now that pride seemed to be gone, and she had to know why. She placed a hand on his knee.

"I would like to know why you would not let me clean your wounds. I know that you have had your shirt off among the men, and that you know I have seen more than one bare chest in my years, so that is no reason. Nick seemed to understand, I would like to as well." She said, her eyes on his. He looked down and away from her, but not before she saw the reluctance on his face. He was difficult to read, this child of another woman, but in those beautiful eyes she could see everything he thought, when he wasn't guarding against it. She had found that he was allowing her to see more and more over the last month, and she had hoped there would be no more times when he would hide from her. She sat quietly, her hand still on his knee as he sat with his head down. Finally he reached for her hand, and took it in his work-roughened one. He held it for a moment, seeming to study the contrast between the two. Then he tugged gently on it. She stood, not knowing what he wanted. Instead of rising, he tugged her closer, then took her hand and guided it around to the middle of his back. He kept his head turned so she had no clue what he was doing until her hand touched his skin. She drew in a deep breath.

Where there should have only been smooth skin over compact muscle, there were ridges and valleys. She stepped around so that she could see what her hand was telling her was there. The slim tanned back was criss-crossed by the angry white lines of scar tissue. She had seen this kind of damage before, on the back of men who had been beaten. It had caused her pain then, to see it on men she barely knew. She had never thought to see it on the skin of someone she loved like her own child. She felt a tear trickle down her cheek, and reached up her free hand to brush it away. He wouldn't want her tears. Somehow she knew that they would possibly hurt him more than the whipping had. Her mind went to the mother of this boy, Leah. How had she reacted to seeing the damage to the back of her son, to knowing that some man had done this to her baby? Victoria's heart broke for both of them, mother and son.

Her hand traced the scars, one by one, missing none. Then she moved back around and sat again in the chair. He still didn't look at her, studying the carpet intently. She reached out and with a hand on his chin, lifted his head. The blue eyes met hers, and she smiled gently at him. She couldn't hide the moisture in her eyes, and she saw it echoed in his. "Perhaps some day you will tell me about it." She saw the instant denial in his eyes, and continued "but only if you want to. I would give anything to change the past so that they had never been put there, but your past is what brought you to us, and I can never regret that." She saw the crooked smile that she had come to love bend his lips.

She heard the jingle of Nick's spurs, and a group of male voices coming closer. She released Heath's chin, and sat back in the chair, giving him a small smile. What had gone on was between them, and so it would stay until he wished otherwise. Nick stalked into the room, followed by an anxious Jarrod, Howard Merar with his medical bag, and Fred, the sheriff. She stood and waved for Nick to move the chair to the side so that Merar could move up next to the bed. He instantly reached for the bandage.

"Let's see what you've gotten into young man, " he said as he started to remove the bandages. Victoria saw him pause in the unwinding, and knew that he had caught sight of the scars. To the man's credit he kept unwinding the bandage as if there was nothing out of the ordinary. He studied the five holes. Probing gently with his fingers. He straightened and looked at the crowd in the small room. "They look to be pretty shallow. Shouldn't be any problem to dig out." He patted Heath gently on the other shoulder. "Not that you'll enjoy it young man. Knowing your family I suppose it would be worthless to suggest an anesthetic." At Heath's headshake he nodded. "Figures. Well if the rest of you will excuse us. I'll get to it. I believe Silas is coming up with some hot water, and he'll help me out." He shooed everyone else out.

The others followed Victoria to the parlor, where they all took seats, except for Nick who took his regular place leaning on the mantle. To Jarrod his brother seemed unusually introspective. Jarrod looked from him to Victoria. "Well ," he said. "Since the two main witnesses are tied up at the moment, can one or both of you tell us what happened? Ciego could only say that Heath and Silas had been bushwhacked, and that Heath had been injured getting away. What is the full story?"

Victoria nodded for Nick to go ahead with the story, since he had spoken to both Heath and Silas. Nick looked into the fireplace for a moment recalling the talk he had just had with Silas.

He had found Silas in the kitchen putting pots of water on the stove to heat. As he stood there in the doorway he saw something he had seldom seen in the past. Silas was obviously upset. He was slamming things around, muttering to himself. As Nick watched he slammed a cabinet, and then leaned forward over the counter, breathing heavily. Nick stepped forward quietly, even his spurs didn't jingle, and put a hand on the thin shoulder. Silas jumped and turned to see who it was.

Nick looked into the usually peaceful brown eyes, and saw several things. He saw anger, and fear, and…..regret. He kept his hold on the shoulder. "What's wrong Silas?" he asked. He had known this man all his life. He was part of the family. If he was hurting Nick wanted it to stop, now.

Silas reached up to pat the hand on his shoulder, and went back to the stove to check the water. It needed to be hot, but not boiling. He was well familiar with the needs of the doctor. He settled the lid back on the pot, and turned to find Nick still standing there looking at him with those intense hazel eyes. While Nick had never resembled Tom Barkley physically, this was the son that had been most like his father in temperament. Always ready to do battle, for himself or others at the drop of a hat, anyone's hat, and woe be it to anyone who got in their way. Silas knew he just wanted to help, but there was nothing to be done. The problem would be convincing Nick of that. There were no impossible problems to Nick Barkley. Only slightly more difficult ones.

"It ain't nothing Mr. Nick. At least nothing that no one except the good Lord can do anythin' about."

Nick crossed his arms over his broad chest and leaned back. Silas recognized the posture. It was that one Nick always got when someone told him something he wanted to do was impossible. Usually just before he went out and did it. "Well, why don't you tell me what it is, and we'll see about that." Nick said confidently.

Silas smiled a little. These Barkley boys…. He went to the table and sat down, unconsciously wringing his hands as he sat there. "I is angry Mr. Nick, and so very sorry. Mr. Heath coulda been killed, and it is all my fault."

Nick dropped his arms and came to sit across from Silas. He leaned forward intently. "Why would you say it was your fault?" he asked.

Silas wouldn't look at him. Feeling ashamed of what he was for the first time in many, many years. More than a home, more than a job, Tom Barkley had given him pride when he had taken him on. He had become a man, someone who was more than the color of his skin, valued for what he could do, not what he was worth on the slave market. Now, that had been thrown back in his face. He shook his head again, staring at the tabletop. "Mr. Heath was there because of ME, because of MY church. And those men, they was objectin' to what he was doin' because of ME. That's why I am at fault." He said, his voice rising, and he raised his eyes to meet the hazel ones across the table. He expected to see agreement there, perhaps even condemnation, but there was not. The hazel eyes were clear and focused.

"No. It was THEIR fault, those men that stopped you. THEY are the one that are the bigots. THEY are the ones that objected to what Heath AND this family was doing, and THEY are the ones that shot my little brother, and…" he rose to his feet and started pacing, as if he had been filled with a sudden burst of energy that had to be release, "..THEY are gonna be the ones to pay for it." The hazel eyes were blazing now, and Silas could almost see Tom Barkley stalking back and forth in his kitchen. Nick came to a stop in front of the table and leaned forward to face Silas. "Heath was there because he wanted to be there, near fought with me to make sure it got done. That means it was important to him, just as it was important to the rest of us. Heath doesn't blame you, I don't, and no one in this family does, so you don't blame you either."

Silas couldn't hold back the smile that spread over his face. Dang but the boy almost had a body believing he could solve any problem just by wantin' to. "All right Mr. Nick if you say so."

"I say so. And my word goes around here!" With a joyful thump of a fist on the table that made it jump, he sat down. "Now, tell me what happened out there. My brother seems to be a little short on words, and I want the full story."

Nick shook his head to clear it of the memory, conscious that he had been silent for several minutes. He still remembered how Silas had described Heath standing there in the wagon box, reins in one hand, tensed and ready for action, and then how Silas had said he just seemed to explode into movement. The gun clearing the holster before Silas could even see it, to evidently deadly effect. Nick decided to combine the two stories so that a more complete picture could be given to the others. When he was done Jarrod shook his head.

"Heath is a constant surprise. I knew he was fast, you only had to see him with one of those knives to know that, but to come out ahead of a situation like you've described…." He broke off in full admiration of his younger brother.

He himself was good with a gun, and he knew that Nick was a little better, from sheer use and practice. But he was sure that neither of them would have been able to do what Heath had done. He wouldn't have been fast enough, and Nick would have been too busy fuming at the situation to think it out as Heath had. Indeed they had gained a brother to reckon with.

Jarrod and Fred ask several questions, but could gain little more information. They finally decided that they would need to speak with Silas and Heath, and then would go out to the site of the incident. They had just finished when Silas came in the door of the parlor. He had a smile on his face.

"The doctor say Mr. Heath is goin' to be just fine. He's bandaging up his shoulder now and trying to talk him into layin' down for a while. Some o' that buckshot was in a mite deeper than he thought it were."

Jarrod stood and gestured to a chair. "While we wait to find out who is more stubborn Silas, we have a few questions about what happened. Could you tell us what you saw?"

Ten minutes later a scowling Howard Merar followed Heath into the parlor. After a hard fought battle he had gotten the young man to wear a sling, at least for now, but he had finally given up on the idea of getting him to rest. It was like talking to a rock, or a Barkley, he reminded himself. This was Tom Barkley's son after all, and a brother to Nick.

Heath ignored the chair that Howard tried to steer him to and went to stand by Nick, unconsciously mirroring his stance on the other end of the fireplace. Jarrod, observing this hid a smile, and saw his mother doing the same. Howard Merar simply rolled his eyes and took his leave of Victoria, pleading a pending birth at the Hotchkiss farm. He advised keeping the arm in the sling for several days, a light workload, and keeping a watch for any infection. He promised to stop by in the next couple of days to take a look at it.

After he had left, Heath looked around at the faces of his family and the Sheriff, and then back at Nick. "Well, when are we goin' out? We'll lose the light soon if we want to track 'em."

Nick cast him a big grin, Jarrod sat back in his chair, shaking his head and laughing, Victoria threw her hands up in disgust. Heath looked to Nick for explanations. Still with the grin Nick shook his head. He wasn't going to get into this.

Victoria rose to her feet and came to stand before Heath. He looked tired to her, and slightly flushed. She put a hand on his cheek, and frowned. Howard had not said anything about a fever, but then the boy only seemed a little warm. He smiled at her, and she turned the touch into a caress. "I know that you feel that you need to take of this, but you need to learn that your family can help with these things. You are injured and need to stay here for now. Let your brothers go with the Sheriff, and take care of what needs to be taken care of."

Heath locked eyes with her for a moment, reading the determination there no doubt then looked over at Nick, who nodded to him. He then looked at Jarrod who added his nod. He sighed. This getting used to family wasn't easy, and that this small woman could wield such power over them all…..He nodded. Victoria rewarded him with a smile.

Nick smiled a little at the resigned expression on Heath's face. How well he knew the feeling of being powerless before this woman. It felt good to him somehow to see her taking the same hard line with this new younger brother of his. It somehow made it easier for him to accept Heath as part of them, as a true brother. He looked at Jarrod, and found the same smile there. He straightened away from the fireplace and waved at Jarrod and Fred. "Well we're burnin' daylight. We better get a move on if we're gonna find anything today." He started for the door, followed by Jarrod and the Sheriff. But he stopped when he heard Heath call his name.

"Nick." Heath said then waited until his brother turned to continue. "Be careful, a true bigot always thinks he's in the right, and a man who thinks he's right can make a bad enemy."

Nick nodded then smiled his best devil may care smile. "That may be so little brother, but then I KNOW I'm right, so that makes me an even worse one." He turned and led an amused Jarrod and Sheriff out of the room.

Heath stared after them, restraining his impulse to follow along behind, despite the small woman who stood before him. He looked down at her, and saw the understanding in her eyes. She hooked her hand through his elbow and tugged him with her toward the doorway.

"It often is harder to stay behind and wait than it is to go along. I have found that over the years myself, and I am sure that for you, having been responsible for taking care of yourself for so long it is even worse. This is where it becomes necessary to trust those around you, that they have your interests at heart, and will do what is necessary to see that what needs to be done gets done. It is a hard lesson, perhaps one harder for you than for me, but you will find it worth your while." They went at a slow pace toward the kitchen, and Heath found that he really didn't mind not going along with his brothers. HIS brothers….that was coming to mean a lot more to him everyday. Maybe he belonged more than he thought.

**Part 7  
**  
The next day Nick was saddling Coco at around six AM when he caught movement out of the corner of his eye through the window. He did a classic double take before his mind realized what he was seeing. He dropped his saddle back where he had just picked it up, and stomped toward the door. The idiot! What the hell did he think he was doing? He stomped around the corner of the barn, and came to a stop where he could get a good look at what was going on.

Heath had backed the freight wagon, up to one of the lumber piles and was loading in boards. Nick noticed that he was using his right arm to lift two of the boards at a time, and using the left to steady the load. He supposed it was a good thing that the six-foot 1x6 boards didn't weigh much, or the boy would have to do it one at a time. Still he had made good progress it seemed since the bed of the wagon was half full. Admiration at the sheer stubbornness of the boy ran through Nick. Not that he was going to let that stop what he had to say.

"Heath!" he barked, startling not only his brother, but also the horses, that started stamping restively. Heath threw him a nasty look and went up to whisper in the ears of the big horses, soothing them with his voice and hands. The two snorted at him, as if complaining about the noise, and he seemed to be agreeing. Nick waited impatiently for Heath to finish, secretly impressed by his brother's way with horses. So far he hadn't found one the boy couldn't charm in time. Seemed odd that a man that didn't talk hardly at all to his family, talked his head off to any passing horse. Heath clumped back to the back of the wagon, casting another nasty glance at Nick who had put his hands on his hips and was rocking back and forth from heel to toe.

Seeing he was going to be ignored, Nick got right up at the back of the wagon, so that when Heath turned around with the boards he couldn't do anything with them. The sky blue eyes pierced him, and he smiled. "Well now, isn't mother going to be pleased with you? Not only are you out of the house, but your out without that sling thing, AND you're working. She'll love it, she ain't had a chance to use her wooden spoon since Gene was in short pants." He saw a flush raise in Heath's cheeks, and the younger man set the boards down and came to stand toe to toe with him. They were of a height, though Nick was a little beefier in the shoulders and chest, not that it mattered he knew, the boy was whipcord tough.

"Get outta my way Nick, or help, one of the two." Was Heath's succinct answer to his taunt. He didn't look like he cared which response Nick chose.

Nick grinned at him. "Now then brother, I'd like to see what you'd do if I didn't choose either one, but never let it be said that Nick Barkley took advantage of a wounded man. Would you care to tell me what in hell you're doin'?"

Heath continued to give him the hard eye, but backed off a few steps. "Gotta get the finishin' lumber out to the church today. They shoulda had everything near framed in yesterday, I done told the Reverend Green it would be there today."

Nick nodded, suddenly enlightened. Heath had promised, and if he had learned anything about this brother of his, it was that his promises were always kept. Of course that didn't explain why he hadn't asked for help. "And you decided to do the loading yourself with one bad arm for what exact reason?" Nick inquired, though he was pretty sure he knew the answer. Heath's answer was just about what he thought it would be.

"The men gotta work today. I'm the one that promised the lumber, why should they do extra work when I can do it. The arm ain't nothing serious. Tried to tell everyone that yesterday, just a little slower than usual is all."

"Mother may have another opinion of the matter." Nick said, and was pleased to see the barb hit home. Good, the boy was at least as afraid of the wrath of Victoria Barkley as he was. He looked around. He saw a rifle, Heath's distinctive Mexican rifle as a matter of fact, leaning in the driver's box. "And I suppose you were planning on taking this load over by yourself?" he asked.

"If I ever get it loaded." Heath said with a jerk of the chin at the blocked access.

"Did you get hit on the head yesterday, boy?" Nick thundered. "Do I need to remind you that we didn't find anyone yesterday except the guy you killed. That still leaves at least three to come back today. Sitting up in that box makes you a hell of a target." He said.

"I got my rifle, and I'll be watchin' for 'em this time. I don't figure they are that stupid anyway, to try the same thing twice. 'Sides, how are they to know I'll be going out today?"

"How'd they know you were going yesterday?" Nick reminded him, not commenting on the rest. There were few men he knew that were as capable of taking care of themselves as Heath was, but what his brother hadn't counted on was that he didn't need to take care of himself, at least not alone, that was what brothers were for!

"Gave that some thought yesterday while you and Jarrod and the sheriff were touring the north forty after them men. I remember Mother talking about it at church last Sunday. She and the several of the ladies league were discussing it right outside the door of the church. Coulda been anyone who was there, or even someone that wasn't there, but heard it about it from someone that was. I reckon they got the information about what was going on and staked out the area waiting for someone to come. Ain't likely to do it again, since they've shown their hand." Heath said. Nick noticed that as it got later Heath was looking toward the house, though not to the front as he would have thought, but to the back door. He had a sudden thought.

"You ain't taking Silas, are you? In fact I bet you snuck out so that he don't even know you're goin'. Boy you are something, even I know better than to piss off both Silas AND Mother at the same time. Between the two of them your life would be miserable forever."

Heath looked down, kicking at a rock. Nick noted that the boy was still wearing those old worn out boots he had come here in. They'd have to see about that. No brother of his was going around in raggedy boots with winter coming on. Heath looked back toward the house, and Nick later swore he went pale. Nick turned to see Silas bearing down on them. He also later mentioned that he was sure he had seen steam coming out of Silas' ears. He heard Heath swear under his breath, and leaned back on the end of the wagon to enjoy the show.

"Heath, just where do you think you is goin with that lumber?" Silas' grated out. Nick noted the dropped 'mister', and ducked his head to hide a smile. Silas must really be streamed.

Heath looked down, kicking at that rock again, he shrugged. "Just doin' what I promised I'd do. Don't know why everyone is getting' all het up about it."

"I don't recall bein' asked to go with you, did I miss that?" Silas said, standing before the blond, his arms crossed.

"Now Silas, there ain't no point in both of us goin'. I'll just be droppin' off the wood and headin' back right off. I just thought with you bein' busy and all….."

"Don't you be tellin' no tall tales to me. Your mama raised you better than that." Silas watched as Heath hung his head in shame. "Now, I will be ready to go after the breakfast dishes is done. If you can gets Mrs. Barkley to agree to you goin' I'll be ready then. I expects you to come and gets me when you is ready to go. Is that clear?"

Nick was openly grinning now. He hadn't heard that tone of voice from Silas since he was 16 and he had decided that the clean sheets would make a dandy bed for the new dog that had followed him home from school, with a little persuasion from the leftovers in his lunch pail. He put on a serious face, and stepped forward as Heath nodded. "I'll make sure he does Silas, in fact we'll both go along to make sure my brother don't get into any more trouble. What you say to that?" He put a hand on the slim shoulder of the older man.

Silas looked at him with a grin. "I think that sounds just fine Mr. Nick. I gots to get back to my biscuits now, breakfast will be ready in 30 minutes." He said as a reminder. With one last stern look at Heath, he disappeared back into the kitchen. Heath sighed.

"Boy howdy. I ain't had a strip tore off me that easy since Hannah heard me use a bad word on Sunday." He went and picked up the two boards he had put down, and nudged Nick out of the way with one end. "Don't just stand there. If you're comin' along you gotta pull your share of the weight." He shoved the two boards into the wagon and went back for more, smiling as Nick followed suit. He hadn't counted on Silas catchin' him, and he sure wasn't looking forward to talkin' with his mother, who would not doubt have strong opinions about his activities. This being part of a family was a strange and fearful thing. Seems you had a lot of people to answer to for your actions. He still wasn't sure if that was good or bad.

An hour later he was riding Gal behind the wagon as Nick guided it down the road. The discussion with Victoria Barkley had been just as difficult as he had thought it would be. She had done everything short of forbidding him to go, but had finally assented when Nick had said he was going along, and that he would make sure Heath didn't over do it. Heath had cast him a withering glance, but had looked hopefully at the woman he was coming to hold in the same place as his own mama. She had agreed, and they had left after Silas was finished in the kitchen. Jarrod had urged them to use caution, but had said nothing about Heath's shoulder, a fact that Heath appreciated. He also appreciated the fact that since Nick had insisted on driving he had the opportunity to ride Gal. He had missed her yesterday. The small black horse had been happy to see him this morning when he went to saddle her, and was moving along with a spring in her step. He kept a sharp eye on the surrounding country, tensing as they neared areas that might hide men. But soon they were in sight of the church and he sighed in satisfaction. His promise would be kept. They would drop off the wood, exchange a few words with Reverend Green, and get on back home, where he and Nick could get back to the business of the ranch. He would have liked to take some time and try his own hand at following the tracks left by their attackers from yesterday, but he was sure his family would raise hell with him.

Silas pointed out to Nick where to direct the wagon. Heath could see that the framing was done, and they were ready for the sheathing. He thought it looked like a good job. He wondered where the men were, he had told the Reverend that he would be here about the same time, but there was no one in evidence, not even the Reverend. There was smoke coming from the house, so he started there to knock on the door, thinking that perhaps Mrs. Green was treating everyone to a cup of coffee while they waited. He knocked on the door, surprised when it opened slightly under his hand.

He felt a chill move down his spine. Something was wrong. He dropped his hand to his gun, and pulled it out, keeping it down by his leg, so he didn't scare Mrs. Green to death if he was wrong and someone just hadn't pushed the door enough to latch it. He pushed the door open, but there was no one there in the kitchen to see. He looked around, and listened, but there was no sound. He started to turn toward the church itself, thinking that maybe everyone was there. He was stepping off the small step when he caught the movement to his right coming from around the corner of the building. He flung up his right arm instinctively to ward off the blow that was aimed at his head. The thick stick of wood slammed into his forearm. The pain drove him to his knees, but he kept his gun. He bellowed at Nick, determined to warn his brother and Silas.

"Nick…!" He screamed trying to bring his gun to bear on his assailant. The stick came back down against his head just as he fired. He sank into the blackness, at least knowing he had taken one man out of the running to cause trouble for Nick, he could only hope it was enough…..

**Part 8  
**  
Nick backed the wagon into the area that Silas indicated. As he maneuvered the wagon he noticed Heath dismounting and going toward the house. Nick wondered here the men were that were supposed to be doing the work, and he supposed that was what Heath was up to. He stopped the wagon, and swung down, he saw Silas doing the same on the other side. He was walking toward the back to start unloading when he heard Heath yell his name.

He spun, his hand dropping to his gun, and looked toward the house in time to see his brother, gun in hand, being struck down by a man with a thick stick. He saw Heath's gun discharge into his assailant, and they fell together. He was starting forward to check on Heath when he saw two more men with shotguns step out from behind the church. Nick spun again, intending to get behind the wagon with Silas, but found himself faced with a sight that made him freeze and then drop his pistol in the dirt at his feet. A third man held Silas around the shoulder, his hand over his mouth, in his other hand he held a pistol, pointed at the older man's head. Nick straightened from the crouch he had instinctively gone into, and cast a quick glance in Heath's direction. His brother wasn't moving. He felt a sense of satisfaction to see that the other guy wasn't moving either. He decided to take what control he could of the situation. He glared at the hooded man who held Silas.

"Which one of you is in charge?" he growled.

One of the men with the shotgun said something to the other, and jerked his hooded head toward Heath and the other man then he turned and looked at Nick. "You Barkley's don't listen real well do ya? You were told to keep away from the darkies, to leave off givin' em stuff. You like em so much, well now you get to die with em." He said, and Nick could almost hear the nasty grin that the man was wearing. The two remaining men shared a laugh. Nick listened to the voice, and the laugh, and knew who was behind the mask, and suspected he knew who was behind the others as well.

Then Nick saw something that made his blood boil. The second man with the shotgun had reached the house, and had bent over his fellow. Evidently Heath's bullet had done it's job because he straightened almost immediately, what got Nick burning was how he turned and kicked the unmoving Heath hard in the ribs. Nick gave a growl and stepped forward to be stopped as the leader raised the shotgun again. Nick glared at him then looked back at the third man. "You do that again," he yelled, "and I'll rip your leg off and feed it to ya, and your friends won't stop me! Leave him alone." The last was an order.

The leader looked at him consideringly. He motioned to the man holding Silas. "Get him in with the others." He jerked his head at the church. The other man nodded and started dragging Silas toward the door to the church. Nick started to step forward again, but the shotgun kept steady on him. The Leader nodded toward the house. "You, go get the other one, the bastard ain't it? Surprised you care what happens to him. Course with you all takin' to the blacks ain't no point holdin' back for a woods colt it there?"

"He's my brother, and if you call him that again I'll take that hood you're hidin' behind and stuff it down your throat." Nick ground out as he stalked over to where Heath lay, still unmoving. Nick made sure that his path to his brother took him near the other man, who he not so gently bumped out of the way. He almost got a shotgun butt in the guts, but a growl from the leader stopped it in mid swing. Nick kneeled next to Heath and took a look at his younger brother. He could see where the thick stick had struck Heath on the temple, there was a nasty looking lump, and the skin had split. Heath was pale, but he seemed to be breathing okay. Nick slapped his face until he got a partial response. It was enough to get Heath to his feet, and stumbling on his own power toward the church with Nick's support and guidance. Nick didn't think he was really conscious of what was happening, so much as simply doing what Nick told him to do. Would be nice if the boy could do that more often when he hadn't been whacked over the head.

He more than half carried Heath into the church where he found the others seated in the pews. The Reverend Green, his wife and three children where in one pew, the children huddled around their mother, while the Reverend had placed himself between his family and the fifth man who had evidently been holding them under a shotgun to assure that they remain quiet. Nick could see that all had their hands tied. In two other pews were the men that Nick assumed were the builders. Several showed signs of having put up a fight before being tied hand and foot, with gags in their mouths.

Silas was seated on yet another pew, and it was there that Nick led Heath, and sat him beside the older man, who lowered the nearly unconscious boy until his head rested in his lap. Silas pulled a clean handkerchief from his pocket and placed it against the sluggishly bleeding wound.

A quick jab of a shotgun in his back urged Nick into the pew behind Silas, and he sat with another growl. The remaining hooded men consulted for a moment, keeping an eye on the hostages. Whatever they decided had two of the men leaving the building, and the other two coming toward Nick. With the aid of a shotgun aimed at Heath's head, they swiftly persuaded both Silas and a grumbling Nick to allow their hands and feet to be tied. Then, ignoring Nick's curses they tied Heath's hands as well, though they didn't tie his feet. Nick cursed louder when Heath moaned in obvious pain. He couldn't see what they were doing, but he was going to make them pay for every moan, he swore it to himself.

Everyone in the church looked around as a sudden pounding started outside the church. In fact it was at the first of two windows on the side of the church. Through the wispy white curtains they could see that a board was being held over part of the window, and it wasn't too hard to imagine what the pounding was. As they watched board after board was put up until the window was covered completely.

"I ain't likin' this overmuch Mr. Nick." Silas said, his bound hands still holding the handkerchief against Heath's head. The younger man hadn't moved since they had tied his hands, and the servant was becoming quite concerned about him. He smoothed one hand through the blond hair. It didn't seem quite fair that this boy was here, not that it was fair that any one of them were there. But this boy, he had gone through things, horrible things, and now to come to this because he was helping out an old black man. It just wasn't right.

"I'm not real fond of it myself Silas, but there's not much we can do about it right now. We'll have to bide our time." Nick said back quietly, keeping an eye on the two men standing guard at the end of the main aisle. His mind was whirling with ideas, but he discarded them almost as soon as they formed. So far he couldn't figure out a way to get all four men without getting most if not all of them killed. He knew that no one was going to be looking for them for at least another hour, probably more. There was little chance of anyone coming out here on a weekday, so a passing rescue didn't seem likely. It was more likely anyone stopping by would end up in here with them. He leaned forward to look over the back of the pew, trying to see Heath's face. "How is he Silas?" he asked, not aware of the feeling that he revealed in that simple question.

Silas heard it though, and looked up to meet the hazel eyes with his own brown ones, his eyes that had seen the best and worst in men. He knew how low a man could go, and had been blessed to know men who were everything the Lord had meant his finest creation to be. This young man before him was one of the best, and it seemed he had finally seen the error of his ways when it came to this latest blessing from God, this new little brother of his. He smiled gently to the boy that he had helped raise, and gave him what reassurance he could given the circumstances. "He's gonna be alright Mr. Nick. He a strong boy, and men like these ain't gonna bring him down, ain't gonna bring any of us down, not in the house of the Lord." He spoke with conviction, and saw the flare of determination in Nick's eyes. Nick smiled back at him and nodded.

"You're right Silas. They're not goin' to bring us down."

The pounding continued until both of the windows were covered completely. As they finished the remaining two men conferred briefly and then moved down the aisle to the door. The leader stopped next to the pew Nick sat on. "This is it Barkley, time for you and the trash to burn. That will clean their stain from the valley, make an example to scare the rest off. Actually it's good you and that bastard brother of yours are here, you'll make a fine example to those who feel sorry for the Niggers, Mexs, and Chinks who are takin' over the place, takin' jobs from white men, taking bread out of their children's mouths." He took a step back suddenly as Nick surged to his feet, eyes blazing.

"I told you not to call him that!" Nick grated out, ignoring the shotgun poking his chest. "And maybe if you weren't so busy runnin' around hiding behind masks and murdering better people than you'll ever be, you could feed your family just fine."

The dark eyes behind the mask flared with anger, and the leader reached up and pulled off the mask. The face he revealed was dark with anger, and he leaned forward to sneer at Nick. "You high an' mighty Barkley's make me sick. Takin' their side, helpin' them out. You don't help out your own kind, so you're getting' what you deserve."

Nick guffawed. "You aren't our own kind." He sneered. "You all are worthless trash. It's not that they've taken the jobs you wanted, they simply do the jobs you think you're too good to do. Honest work for honest men, who aren't too proud to work for what they want, for what their families need. If you wanted to have a job you could have one but you're too busy hangin' out in the saloon bumming drinks and complaining." He tried to dodge the shotgun barrel that swung at his stomach, but he only was able to turn partially away, it still took his wind, and he ended up on the floor between the pews, curled around the pain.

The two men shared a laugh and went out the door, slamming it behind them. There was pounding again, and the people inside knew the door was being boarded shut. The children were crying, lying against their mother who had tears running down her cheeks as she tried to silence them. The Reverend had moved over next to them, and was praying. The men in the other pews were struggling with their ropes. Silas was trying to look over the back of the pew to see how Nick was, but the weight of Heath in his lap wouldn't allow him to move enough.

Suddenly the weight on his lap moved, and the blond cowboy was sitting up. His eyes were squeezed nearly shut in pain, but there was more color in his cheeks, and the blue eyes behind the squinted lids seemed clear.

"Mr. Heath. Don't you be moving around now. There ain't nothin' you can do…." Silas started only to silence himself as Heath reached down and pulled a knife from his boot. The young man flashed a grin at Silas and turned the knife around to cut at the ropes tying his hands. As he sawed at them, smoke began coming from under the door, and through a broken pane on one of the windows. The men had fired the church! "You best hurry with that Mr. Heath, or it ain't gonna be matterin' too much." Silas warned his eyes on the tendril of smoke working it's way towards them.

**Part 9  
**  
Heath looked toward the door of the church and saw the same tendril of smoke that Silas had spotted. He sawed harder with his knife. It's edge, honed to razor sharpness by it's owner, quickly bit through the thick ropes, and soon his hands were free. He turned as his hands came free hand looked over the back of the pew he was on.

"Boy howdy Nick. How do you expect us to get outta here if you're just layin' around moanin' all day?" he asked his brother, trying to hide the worry that the hooded men had forced a rib into a lung or other vital organ.

Nick struggled to his knees awkwardly, trying to stifle the curse that came to his lips. After all, they were in a church. When he had managed to get back into the pew, he looked up to see his blond younger brother staring at him with concern in his sky blue eyes. The lump on the side of his head was starting to color, and he seemed pale, but he was sitting up, and his hands were free. "You're one to talk about lollygaggin' around. What were you doin', playing possum while I was facin' down the bad guys?" Nick grumbled and held out his hands imperiously.

"You seemed to be irritatin' them just fine without my help, Nick. I figured they didn't need to be looking around my boot tops, if you see what I mean." Heath said as he dealt with Nick' s ropes. He then turned and released Silas. He looked around at the others It was now dark in the church except for the candles that had been burning on the alter at the front. There had been several, and their soft light was enough for Heath to make out the scared faces of the Greens, and the angry and scared faces of the builders. He noticed that the young man that had tried to bully him on the previous day was glaring at them. He looked back at Nick. "Any ideas on how we're getting' outta here? It's gonna get uncomfortable hot soon, that is if we don't choke to death on the smoke first." The smoke was getting thicker.

Nick looked around as he finished untying his legs. He got to his feet and started for the doors. "I'll check these, you let those folks go, and then check the windows." He said. Upon reaching the doors he gave them a sample push, but that yielded nothing. He tried with his shoulder, and had the same result. The smoke coming from beneath the door was intensifying, making him cough. Finally after a kick with his booted foot he retreated. He found the others loose and standing in the center of the church, watching the walls as if they were going to burst into flame any minute, and given the situation, they could just do that. Silas was speaking with the Reverend Green who was holding his wife, with his children clustered around them.

Heath was just turning from the windows, and seeing his brother looking his way, shook his head. The boards were solid. Might as well try knocking down the walls as getting through those windows. He caught the look on Nick's face, and assumed the door was much the same. Things were not looking good. He went over to stand next to Nick, looking around the room for any kind of escape plan, but nothing leapt out at him. He looked at his older brother who was standing in the center of the church, arms crossed across his chest, eyeing the walls as if he was contemplating going right through them. Silas and Reverend Green came back to join them. The builders had huddled together near the alter and were having low conversations of their own, occasionally punctuated by angry words and the occasional dark look thrown at Nick and Heath.

Reverend Green was sweating, and had loosened his collar. The heat was starting to rise in the church, and Heath could see that the smoke was starting to fill the high parts of the room. It wouldn't be long until they had no air. They would be dead long before the flames reached them. It wasn't much comfort. Heath's eyes lingered on Mrs. Green and the children, huddled on a pew at the front. He turned his eyes to see that Nick was looking the same way, their eyes met, hazel to blue, and each saw an equal determination not to let those children die.

"I have to admit I have no solution to our problem gentlemen. I have asked the Lord for his aid, but have found over the years that he tends to help those that help themselves. How we are to do that however is a puzzle." As he finished speaking, the builders started down the aisle, pushing past the cowboys as if they weren't there. The youngest one made a point of bumping into Heath, who staggered into Nick. Nick caught his brother as he stumbled into him, and wondered at the groan that he was sure he heard from the blond. He glared at the young black man that had bumped into Heath. The five men began pushing on the door as Nick had done. Nick turned back to the others. "That ain't gonna work" he said with a jerk of his head in that direction. "Even if they get it down, those men could be stickin' around to watch their handy work, then what, you trade burning for getting shot. Someone will see the smoke soon, and come to investigate, but I got a feeling it won't be soon enough for us." Silas and the Reverend Green nodded in agreement, but no one said anything to the five men. It was their only hope, and it didn't seem likely to work.

While Nick had been talking Heath had been looking around. His eyes went to the high ceiling of the church, almost filled now with smoke. He noticed however, that while the smoke was feeding in from the doors and the one window, there seemed not to be as much as he would have thought. He left the small group, and with a crooked smile for Mrs. Green as he passed he picked up one of the candles and went toward the left corner of the church. He raised the candle and eyed what it showed him. He felt a smile forming on his face.

"Nick!" He called, and saw his brother turn toward him. Nick frowned, wondering what his brother was doing with the candle. He saw Heath motioning for him to come over.

"Seems we got enough fire already. You planning on burning your way out?" He asked, with a wink at one of the children, who seemed calm enough, but he could see the fright in their eyes. As he came even with Heath, his brother handed him the candle, and motioned upward.

"No, I reckon it's time to try out your climbin' ability. I figure if you was to shinny up this here bell rope you could climb out the hole that the smoke is goin' out up there." Heath said, pointing up to the small bell tower that was above them. "I figure those boys oughta be gone by now. They ain't figurin' on us bein' loose, and they gotta be a long way away by the time someone notices this so as they can say they wasn't here. We can even send the kids up with you and you can lower them down with the rope. Once you get down you can see about making an opening for the rest of us."

"Why should I be the one to climb up, why don't you do it? It's your idea, are you too lazy to get your butt up that rope?" Nick said, his mind following the possibilities. It should work. He remembered the size of the bell tower, and there should be no problem getting out, then he just pulled the rope out to use to go down the side of the building, from there it would be a matter of finding some water and as Health said making an opening for the rest to get out. While he and the children could make the climb and climb out, there was no way that the Reverend or his wife could climb up, or get out through the narrow opening and a few of the builders were looking a bit too big as well. Heath on the other hand should fit just fine. He determined that Heath should be the one to go. "In fact, I elect you to do it. I got a sudden fear of heights coming on." He thought for a moment. "What about the bell? Won't that get in the way, not to mention make a hell……" he paused, and cast a glance at the Reverend, "….sorry Reverend…..a heck of a lot of noise?"

Heath was shaking his head. "Ain't no bell Nick. The rope is just tied to the support rafter up there. The church couldn't afford one. And you gotta go Nick, I can't." He reached up with his left hand and unwrapped the rope from the cleat that was on the wall, handing it to his brother, who stood there glaring at him.

"Why can't you go?" he said trying to hand the rope back, this back and forth would be amusing if it weren't for the situation. Heath refused to take it, just looking at Nick, and shaking his head. "Well!?" Nick finally demanded. He was going to get an explanation as to why he had to leave his brother in here while he climbed to safety.

"Can't climb no rope with a busted arm Nick, I'm good, but I ain't that good." Heath finally replied, and glanced down at his right arm. The arm that Nick now noticed he had tucked inside his shirt just above his belt, letting the fabric and leather support it.

"When the hell did that ……sorry Reverend….When the guy hit ya?" Nick thundered, almost angry that Heath hadn't said anything. Heath nodded. "Well that's just fine!" he said "Ya coulda dropped a word." He really wasn't angry so much as afraid. Afraid that he would survive this, and his brother and the others wouldn't. He handed the candle to Reverend Green and prepared to climb up the rope, only to stop as Silas put a hand on his arm. He looked down, to find Silas offering him a small pistol, a .38 it looked like. He met the brown eyes with his own.

Silas shrugged, "They didn't bother to search me. But I didn't have no time to do nothin' with it 'fore hand. You might need it out there." He said simply. Heath was grinning, and Nick smiled back at him. He clapped Silas on the shoulder and stuck the pistol in his empty holster. He grabbed hold of the rope and began to climb.

He was more than three quarters of the way up when he looked down to find that the builders had noticed what he was doing and had formed a circle around the three men at the bottom of the rope. He could also see that Heath had a knife in his good hand and that Silas and the Reverend were standing in between the men and the rope. He couldn't tell what was going on, but since this was their only chance for life, he couldn't stop to see what happened below. He pulled himself the last few feet and grabbed the large support beam that should be holding a bell. From there he pushed his feet through the nearest opening and pushed himself out on the roof. The sides of the building were burning along the front of the church and on the side with the windows, Evidently the men hadn't set their fires all the way around. They were going to make it!

He poked his head back through the opening and called down to Heath, but there was no answer. The smoke blocked his view, and he couldn't see what was happening. He cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled again. "Heath! Heath, can you hear me?"

There was no answer.

**Part 10  
**  
Nick was about to climb back down the rope, regardless of the fire, when it grew taut. As if someone was climbing it. Had they sent up one of the children on it's own? He tried to see through the smoke, and could finally see a hand on the rope, a large black hand. It wasn't one of the children. His mind went back to the last thing he had seen before he had climbed out. Heath, Silas and Reverend Green had been standing in front of the rope, faced by the five builders and Heath had one of his knives in his hand. What the hell had happened?

He stepped back as the man copied his maneuver to exit the bell tower. He found himself faced by a young looking man, with several noticeable cuts and marks of a fight on his face. What puzzled Nick for a moment was the swelling eye. As a veteran of many a bar fight, Nick was something of an expert on black swollen eyes, and this one looked really recent.

The young man scowled at him for a moment, then broke into a grin. "Mr. Silas and the other one, they said you would be waitin'. We all didn't figure you'd put much value on no black folks, and we heard tell that you didn't exactly used to like that brother of yours all that much, so we figured you'd save yourself and leave us to cook." He said bluntly.

Nick scowled back at him. "So they sent you up to make sure I did my job, eh?" he glanced back at the opening. "What about my brother, and Silas, what happened to them?"

The black man raised his hands defensively, and took a step back from Nick. "I don't be messing with that old man again, and that boy is way too fast with a knife for my taste. Ain't nobody ever said that Bo Taylor don't know when he's beat. They reckoned I could pull up the kids while you made a hole, or t'other way round. Make it faster for everyone."

Nick studied him for a moment, seeing what he believed to be truth in his eyes. He'd have to believe that Heath and Silas were okay for now. He jerked his head at the side, currently free of fire. "You know where the tools are to take the boards down, and probably know how to use them better than I do. Use the rope to get down, and then I'll drop it back down for the kids and whoever else will fit." The black man, Bo, Nick assumed his name to be, leaned back in and grabbed the rope. He threw it over the side, and was disappearing down it moments later. Nick waited until he was off the rope and then reeled it back up. He dropped it down, and was encourage to see it moving as if someone below was moving it. After a moment he saw it jerk, and took that as his cue to pull it up. He did so, and soon found himself looking at the two smallest children, eyes wide with fear, strapped in an improvised harness cut from what looked like a woman's petticoat. He rolled his eyes. If he knew his younger brother, and he was rapidly coming to know the boy as if they had been raised together, Heath had been the one to talk the preacher's wife out of her petticoat. That boy could sweet talk women like there was no tomorrow, and he didn't even have to say much. Nick would have to study the technique. Not that he needed help in that area he hastily added to himself.

He quickly maneuvered the children out through the opening and leaving them in the harness; lowered them over the side. He peered over to make sure that they were able to move away from the building, which they did instantly; stumbling together toward the house. Nick hastily dropped the rope down again, keeping one eye on the fire at the other end of the building. It was building rapidly and he knew that the smoke inside must be getting stifling. He saw the rope tugged again, and pulled up the third child, who was silently crying. He gave her a gentle hug, and lowered her down the side of the building. She scampered off after her siblings. He tried to see if Bo was having any luck, but the windows and door were on the other sides of the building, and so was the well. He dropped the rope down again, and waited.

He was trying to figure how many of the others would fit through the opening, when he noticed the rope being tugged again. He pulled it up, noticing that the weight had increased, but obviously the person on the other end was trying to help, by climbing up the wall he supposed. A weathered, wrinkled hand appeared out of the smoke, and Nick could hear a familiar cough. "Silas!" he yelled, and helped the older man out of the opening. Silas steadied himself on Nick's arm for a moment while he coughed. The he stood up and looked at Nick.

"We think that maybe two of the workers can make it through, they about your size Mr. Nick. If you put the rope down, they figure they can gets out themselves. The others will have to wait." His eyes were anxious as he looked at the fire eating away at the other end of the building.

Nick finished untying the rope from around Silas and tossed it over the side. He nodded, also with an anxious look at the flames. "I'll go help Bo, you drop the rope back down to them when I'm off it." He started the side of the building, and watched as the rope disappeared up the side of the building then he ran toward the other side of the building, going around the front to see if the door was accessible. In a moment he could already tell that end of the church was too involved for any good to be done there. That left the windows.

As he came around the side of the building he stopped, almost overcome by shock. The entire side of the building was aflame, including the windows. There would be no going through there either. There was no way they could keep the fire down using buckets of water, either so that they could do something. Nick overcame his shock, and looked wildly around for Bo. There was no sign of him!

Nick cursed vilely, and started toward the pile of tools he could see near the end of the new addition. The other man may have fled, but HE wasn't giving up on those inside, not on his brother.

He was half way to the tool pile when he heard the sound of something pounding into wood. He ran to the forth side of the church, the one where the addition was going on. He stopped again as he came around the corner. Through the open framing he could see Bo, an axe in his hand, attacking the wall of the church. As he watched the man sunk the axe into the wall and jerked it loose, then pounding it back in. The black man caught sight of Nick and jerked his head at a crowbar that lay at his feet.

"Grab that and start pullin' these boards loose. We can goes through the wall here. We was gonna put in a door into the church, and there's just a clear wall on the other side of this one. We can chop through it in no time."

"No time is just about what we got!" Nick growled and jumped into the addition, grabbing the crowbar. He attacked the wall where the axe had made a hole, ignoring the continued swings so close to his side. He pried loose one board, and was struggling to clear it out, when another pair of hands joined his. It was another of the carpenters that had been building the addition. Nick let him take the board, and returned to the next hole made by the axe.

They made quick work of the outer wall, and could see the back of the inside wall. Nick shook his head at the vertical studs that were in the way. "We'll have to take out a couple of those," he yelled to the others, trying to be heard over the roar of the fire. He noticed that the other builder had joined them, and saw Silas, his arms around the children, standing at the end of the addition, watching, but staying out of the way. Bo nodded his head and kept swinging with mighty blows.

It seemed to take forever before the axe bit through the inner wall, and Nick could move in with the crowbar. He pried one board out, passing it to the other two men, and looked back to see a face in the hole he had made. Or more like half a face, as the bottom half was covered in what looked like a damp cloth. The eyes were red from smoke irritation. It was one of the builders. Nick felt a nudge at his side, and he saw that one of the other men was handing him a second crowbar to pass to the man inside. He did so and returned to his own attack. Smoke poured through the widening opening.

Minutes later the hole was large enough. The men outside threw aside the tools and motioned to the people inside. The first person out was Mrs. Green, her mouth and nose also covered by a damp cloth, tears making tracks in the soot on her face. She instantly stumbled through the addition with the help of one of the builders to hug her children, who threw themselves into her arms.

The next out was Reverend Green, barely scrapping through the hole they had made, but forcing himself through. He too wore the cloth, and was covered with soot. Nick looked impatiently through the hole. Where the hell was Heath? As he thought it, a blue clad arm reached out and grabbed onto the edge of the hole. His brother, no longer blond, his face half covered, his eyes streaming from the smoke irritation was one of the best things Nick had ever seen.

Nick helped his brother climb through, trying to keep from banging the broken arm. They stumbled out of the way, Nick doing more supporting than he liked. He saw the other two men coming out the hole one after the other as he led Heath toward the area where Silas and the Green's stood under a tree, well clear of the building. The Reverend and Mrs. Green, their children still clinging, were sitting on the ground, coughing. Nick lowered Heath to sit against the tree, with Silas helping on the other side, trying to support the broken arm.

As he moved back, Nick could see that the arm had swollen to the point that Heath had been forced to slit his sleeve to the elbow. The carpenters cleared their tools away from the addition, and then moved over to sit on the ground near the others. They all sat there, watching as the church became fully involved. The front end of the building collapsed soon after. It seemed that there was nothing that anyone could think to do. The house was well clear of the burning building, so there was no need to protect it, and there was certainly nothing to be done to save the church.

They were still sitting there five minutes later when a three Barkley ranch hands rode up. Duke, the foreman, glanced from the sooty group sitting on the ground to the burning building, obviously drawing his own conclusions. He swung down near Nick and the others. The other two hands dismounted and stood holding their reins.

"What in H…What happened?" Duke said, changing his wording as he recognized the Reverend Green and his family among the crowd.

Nick stood up and gestured to the church. "Those men that ambushed Heath and Silas yesterday locked us in the church and set it on fire. We barely made it out." He growled. "Did you see the smoke?"

Duke started to shake his head. "Not until we were on the way here. The team came back into the yard at a dead run. All that was left of the wagon was the tongue and the traces. Found the rest of it down the road a ways. When they came in we headed out here, then saw the smoke."

Nick nodded, and looked around. There was no sign of Heath's horse, Gal. He supposed she too had fled the flames, or had possibly been taken by the men. Heath wasn't gonna like that. "Heath's hurt, we need to get him to the doctor, in fact the whole bunch of them can probably use a looking at. Why don't you hook up the Reverend's wagon and we'll all go into town. I want to talk to the sheriff." He was frustrated at the idea he would have to ride in on the wagon, when he caught site of Edwards, one of the hands, holding the reins of Baldy, one of the horses Nick used when Coco was too tired on the round-ups or drives. "Bobby! He yelled. You drive the wagon and give me Baldy. I'll meet you in town." Edwards nodded. That settled he turned to talk to Heath, tell him his plans. To his surprise he found his brother struggling to stand, despite Silas' protests. "And where do you think you're going?" He snapped.

Heath met his eyes with determination. "With you." He said simply. He was dirty, and pale under the soot, but his posture spoke of his mind being made up.

"And what exactly will you be riding?" Nick inquired.

"Well, I could do like you and toss Jerry off his horse, but that's kinda rude, and I thought I'd just use my own." His brother replied. He seemed to be trying to ignore the fact he was swaying back and forth where he stood.

"Oh you will, will you?" Nick said, then waved an arm to take in all points of the compass. "And where exactly is that pony of yours? Half way back to the Modoc's that raised her?" he asked sarcastically, keeping an eye on his brother, ready to grab him if he started to fall.

Heath shot him a nasty look, and raised his good hand to his mouth and let loose a high pitched whistle. In a matter of seconds they all heard the answering whinny from the distance. Seconds later the small black horse thundered over a rise, heading for Heath.

Heath turned from looking at her, a satisfied look on his face. "Reckon you didn't look well enough big brother…." He started to say, then he seemed to get even paler under the soot, and Nick leaped forward just in time to keep him from hitting the dirt face first. The larger man staggered under the suddenly limp burden of his younger brother, but managed to control their fall to the ground.

Nick looked up from his unconscious brother's face to find Silas hovering anxiously a their side. "You take care of him Silas. I want to get into town and talk to the sheriff before those boys find out we're still alive. I don't think they'll stick around long once they hear."

Silas knelt down and took the unconscious man from Nick. "I'll look after him Mr. Nick. We'll all be just fine."

Nick reached out a hand and ruffled the short, dirty hair. He was finding more and more to admire about this new brother. Once they got this over with, Nick made the decision that he was going to get to know him better, even if he had to get him drunk to get ten words out of him at a time. Now, he was going to get the men that had done this, and he wasn't leaving it all to the Sheriff. He sent Duke back to the ranch to let them know what was happening, the other hand would go with the wagon. He looked around at the others, and gave them a nod. He mounted Baldy, and with one last look at Silas and Heath headed for town.

**Part 11  
**  
Thirty Minutes later people strolling the streets of Stockton turned to watch as Nick Barkley, king of the largest ranch in the state, rode down the street covered in soot and glaring through reddened eyes at everyone who dared to cross his path. Paths in the soot showed where he had sweated. Altogether he was an odd sight.

One such spectator was Jarrod Barkley, newly out of the barber shop, his hair neatly clipped, his face freshly shaven, his jacket brushed, and smelling sweetly of bay rum. He recognized the horse first. There were not that many skewbald horses in the area, and then the rider. There was no missing that broad shouldered form, soot covered though it may be. With typical focus Nick was not looking at anyone on the sidewalks, but was reserving his glare for anyone getting in his way. Jarrod moved quickly off the sidewalk and was at the side of the horse before Nick could pass him on the busy street.

"Nick. What in hell happened to you? Has there been trouble at the ranch? Are Mother and Audra okay?" he asked as he grabbed Baldy's halter, stopping the horse.

For a moment Nick was so focused on his goal of the sheriff's office that he didn't know who had dared to grab his reins, and he was ready to give them a swift kick with one of his boots, then he recognized Jarrod. He had spent the last thirty minutes living the whole process over and over in his head. Seeing Heath fall under the club of the man he had killed. Being tied in the church, the fear in the eyes of the children, the smell of the smoke, the feeling he had felt when he had to leave his new brother inside that burning church.

In that time he had realized several things. First he was going to notify the sheriff because that's what law-abiding men did when a crime had been committed, of course that didn't mean that Nick Barkley wasn't going to have his vengeance. The second was that while Heath might be new to the Barkley family, he was all Barkley, and that meant that no one messed with him while Nick was around. He recognized the feeling. He had felt it when he had first taken Audra to school with him. She had been five and he had been almost thirteen. She had been dressed like a little doll, at her own insistence, and had been every bit the little princess. She had taken most of the school by storm, except for one boy, Steven Hargrove. He had been Nick's age, and a bully. Nick hadn't paid him much mind, preferring the company of others, and not being someone that a bully would be interested in trying out. The other boy had made the mistake of pushing Audra out of the way at the well, causing the little girl to fall into a puddle, covering her in mud.

Unlike most little girls Audra Barkley didn't sit there and cry about her dress, she had come up out of that puddle screaming, and had lit into the much larger boy with fists flying. She had got in a couple of good shots before the bully could overcome his surprise and push her off again. Unfortunately for him, the little girl's familiar screams of rage had drawn her big brother from around the corner of the schoolhouse where he had been hanging out with his pals. Nick had rounded the corner just in time to see the bully push his sister, already mud splattered back into the puddle.

Nick had felt a rage boil up in him like nothing he had ever felt before. Sure he had felt protective of this little bit of pink lace that was his sister, had cherished her from the time he had first held her in his arms, and lamented that she wasn't a little brother. Not that he hadn't tormented her himself over the years but that was different; he was her big brother. But this…..this surge of anger was a burning in his soul. Someone had dared to hurt his sister. HIS sister. The resulting fight had ended with the other boy a bloody mess, and with Nick suspended for the first week of school. Audra had become even more devoted to her big brother who had protected her from the nasty big boy. Now, Nick felt that same thing with Heath. Someone, and Nick knew exactly who, had dared to hurt HIS little brother, and while he knew that Heath was just as capable as he was at taking care of the sons of bitches that had done this, Nick was going to see to it personally, just as he had those many years ago in the school yard.

He looked down at Jarrod through bloodshot eyes that still ached from the smoke. "The ranch is fine." He growled. He threw a leg over the horse and slid to the ground in front of his immaculate brother. That very cleanliness seemed to anger him somehow. It was if Jarrod had intentionally been enjoying himself while he and Heath….Nick shook it off, knowing he was just directing his anger in the wrong place. He needed to save that for when he caught up with the men responsible. He took Baldy's reins and pushed past Jarrod, resuming his push to the Sheriff's office, Jarrod moved along with him, reaching out to grab a grubby arm.

"Damn it Nick what happened?" Jarrod demanded as Nick turned back around to face him. In those hazel eyes Jarrod saw anger, and determination, not unfamiliar emotions where Nick was concerned, but it was Jarrod's job as Nick's big brother to rein in those emotions and keep Nick from going off half-cocked. But to do that, he needed to know what was going on. He turned his analytical mind to what could have gone wrong.

This morning at breakfast it had been revealed that Health was going to take the rest of the lumber over to the church so that the addition could be finished. Not a bad thing in itself, but Heath had been loading the lumber himself, and had been intending to drive over by himself. The first act had their mother upset, and the second had Nick, and Silas too it seemed, upset. Heath had weathered everyone's disapproval stoically, and had stubbornly clung to the plan. He had managed to talk Victoria around, promising to not do any lifting with the arm, and had appeased Silas and Nick by allowing that he wouldn't be sorry for the company. Jarrod had left for town before they had left for the church, but they had been all ready to go. That meant that what ever had happened, it must have happened at the church, and by the looks of Nick it hadn't been good.

"Health! Is Heath all right, and Silas?" Jarrod asked, suddenly fearful that something had happened to Heath, or the faithful man who had devoted a good portion of his life to the Barkley family. He shook Nick's arm when the cowboy didn't answer quickly enough.

Nick shook off his hold and kept walking, but he had seen the concern in Jarrod's eyes, and felt he had to answer. "Silas is fine. Health is some beat up, don't know how bad, but he wanted to come with me, so I hope it's not too bad. The others are okay too. Those men that ambushed Heath and Silas yesterday did it again. This time they had everyone at the church tied up when we got there, including Mrs. Green and the kids. They got the drop on us and tied us up too. They stuck us all in the church and boarded us in then they set the place on fire. We only got out because our brother's sneaky and a fast thinker." He spat out the explanation as he stalked toward his goal.

Jarrod took in the story as he followed Nick, his mind whirling. "Where are Health and Silas now?" he asked, surprised that Nick had left them. He knew how protective this brother of his could be.

"They were hitching up the wagon to bring everyone in to the Doc's when I left. Silas will stay with Health. I came in ahead of them so I could alert the sheriff and…" he broke off, knowing that his lawyer brother wouldn't agree with his intent.

But he should have remembered with whom he was dealing. Jarrod Barkley had been dealing with his younger brother all the years of his life, and Nick had never let anything like this go, especially when it came to family, and it seemed that Health had finally been placed in that part of Nick's heart that was reserved for the family. Jarrod had only to look in the hazel eyes to see the intent, had only to watch the determined stalking form to know the plan. Nick would notify the sheriff, and then go off and do what he felt had to be done, law or no law. Jarrod reached out and grabbed the arm again, bringing Nick to a reluctant halt. "And then what Nick? You go and find the men who did this, on your own, take revenge? How many men where there Nick?" he asked.

Blazing eyes met his. "Heath killed one. That leaves four for me." He growled out, not backing down from his intent in the face of his older brother's disapproval.

"Four." Jarrod observed. "And you don't feel that you may be a bit over matched by taking on four men all alone?"

"No." Nick said firmly. Supremely assured of his own prowess.

"Well, it may come as a shock to you Brother Nick, but vengeance is not yours. Anyway…I thought the men all wore masks, how do you know who to go after?"

"Because one of them took off the mask. He didn't figure that we'd be alive to identify 'em I guess. I've seen him around town, and I ain't givin' him a chance to high tail it out of here with his friends. They tried to kill me, Heath, Silas, the Greens and the men who were buildin' the church, they gotta pay for that, and I'm just the man to collect the payment. That's not vengeance counselor, that's justice" Nick said

"No, it's revenge. Tell the sheriff what you know and let him take care of it." Jarrod said intensely. He was fighting down his own feelings of anger. How could anyone justify what had been done? Prejudice was one thing, murder was another. That two of the intended victims were his brothers, and one a man who was more family than retainer, made it even worse. His blood burned just as strongly as Nick's did. He too could see the appeal of simply going after the men and taking simple frontier justice. However, he had devoted a good portion of his life to the law, and to upholding the rules that made him and most of the people in the country better than the men who had done this. He couldn't, wouldn't, let his brother break those laws now, no matter how appealing.

"You don't understand Jarrod, I really don't expect you to since you've got ice water instead of blood, but I understand." Nick said jabbing his thumb at his own chest. Pulling his arm loose once again he continued his trudge toward the sheriff's office. Jarrod just didn't understand. He was too dedicated to the law. Well, Nick was too, but his law was rawer, more basic. It said that you dealt with those that sinned against you swiftly and terribly. He looked at the position of the sun. He had to get a move on. The wagon wouldn't be too far behind him, and once they were seen word would spread quickly, warning the men that they could be identified.

Nick suddenly found himself grabbed and dragged to the side of the street where he was slammed into the side of a building. The reins had dropped from his hand in his surprise, and Baldy stood there, staring at the spectacle the humans seemed to be making of themselves. Nick found himself eye to eye with an enraged Jarrod, who used an arm that felt like steel to hold Nick across the chest. The dark blue eyes were burning.

"Don't you dare think that your anger is less than mine!" Jarrod hissed. "Heath and Silas mean just as much to me as they do to you, and I count you in there too. Those men almost murdered half my family, I would love to help you string them up on the nearest tree, but that's not how our parents raised us, and that's not the type of men we are. We are BETTER than they are, and by God you're going to show that if I have to break every bone in your body."

Nick stood there, staring at his brother for a long moment, wondering when was the last time he had seen this side of Jarrod. It came to him in a flash. They had been standing over the body of their father, his blood still warm on their hands. Nick had been ready to kill anything associated with the railroad, but Jarrod had reined in his anger to be the voice of reason. Slowly Nick began to nod, not breaking eye contact with his brother.

"All right, " he said, "we'll do it your way, lawyer. But we better get to it, or those men will be in the wind and we'll never catch 'em." Jarrod studied him for a moment, as if to assure himself that Nick was complying, and then stepped back, tugging his coat back into place, and smoothing down his hair. He studiously ignored the people who had stopped to stare at the drama unfolding on the street.  
"Glad you saw it my way Brother Nick." He said. He knew that if Nick had put up a fight it would have been one he would have been hard put to win, but he was as doggedly determined as his brother, and Nick needed to know that.

"Oh I did, Jarrod. You should use that technique in court some time. It should make a real impression on the witness, and the jury." Nick kidded him gently. He picked up his hat from where it had fallen, and set it on his head and then collected the reins to the patient Baldy. They started toward the sheriff's office again, but this time it was Nick that reached out a hand to a brother's arm. "I'm…sorry Jarrod. I know you care. You just show it in different ways. I didn't mean…" he broke off, unable to continue. The dark blue eyes twinkled at him, and Jarrod clapped him on the back.

"I know Nick." He said "Now, what say we get to the sheriff's office sometime before our little brother gets here to do it for you?"

Nick laughed, possibly for the first time in hours he realized, "You don't know how right you are Jarrod. Let me tell you….." They headed toward the office, Nick sharing how their brother had tried to follow him, and filling Jarrod in on what had happened.

**Part 12  
**  
Heath Barkley slowly came to realize that the rocking he was feeling wasn't in his mother's arms, but was instead in the back of a wagon. As he struggled to get his eyes opened he realized he heard voices around him: men, women, children. Where was he, and why was he there with all these people? He let it go for a moment, simply swaying along with the wagon, but as he did so everything came back, the attack yesterday, the ride to the church this morning, the ambush there, the fire, escaping the church. The last thing he recalled was talking to Nick. What had happened?

He must have passed out. He damned his own weakness, and opened his eyes to find Silas seated beside him. A glance around the wagon showed that the Green's and the carpenter's were all squished in with them. Heath was ashamed the notice that the other were all in uncomfortable positions that allowed him room to stretch out in the middle of the wagon. He instantly began struggling to sit up. At first Silas tried to keep him down, but them threw up his hands and helped him instead.

"Mr. Heath, I swear you got an extra helpin' of stubborn from your daddy. You best be sittin' still now. We done wrapped up your arm, but you's had a hard day so far." Silas said.

Heath smiled at the man's understatement. "Boy howdy I guess Silas. Where are we?" Heath looked around but he didn't recognize the area. He didn't often travel in this section of the country. Since he had come here he had little chance to really go anywhere except the ranch and town, outside of that cattle drive of course. The gently rolling hills all looked pretty much a like to him still.

"We about 10 minutes out from town, Mr. Barkley." It was Reverend Green who answered. "We made good time so far. Your brother should have made it to the Sheriff's office by now, and got the law on those men. I know the one man showed his face to Mr. Nick, and I think he recognized him."

"Yeah, I think you got it right Reverend. Nick knew that fellow, and I don't think I'd want to be in his shoes about now." Heath looked around again, and saw that Gal was tied to the back of the wagon, looking at him with her ears forward and a gleam in her eye. He looked forward to the man driving, and noticed it was the young man who had tried to whipsaw him yesterday. Bobby, the ranch hand, sat next to him with a rifle. The sight of the swollen eye made him smile and look at Silas. "You know Silas, I don't think I'll be sneakin' no more bread from your kitchen. Don't reckon it's worth the chance, you being so good with your fists and all."

Silas slapped him lightly on his good arm. "Don't you joshin' with old Silas, Mr. Heath. The boy was getting' a bit uppity. Suggestin' that Mr. Nick was gonna just leave us all there, and the language he used." Silas replied in a scandalized voice. "In a church with women and children present. There just ain't no letting that pass."

"I can see that anybody woulda done the same Silas." Heath soothed, not to successfully hiding his smile, earning him another slap on the arm. As he had been speaking Heath had been evaluating his own condition, and while the arm was a problem, he seemed to be doing pretty good otherwise, despite his recent unintentional nap. He reached up with his good hand and tapped on the broad back of the driver. "Pull up will ya?" he said, happy to see that the man did as asked.

By the time that the Bo Taylor was turning to see what was going on, Heath had struggled to his feet. Silas was protesting, but Heath was ignoring him, and excusing himself to this fellow riders. "'Scuse me folks. Just gotta get back to my horse, and then you all will have a little more room." He said. Once he reached the rear of the wagon he pulled Gal forward and after releasing the tied reins, slipped awkwardly into the saddle from the wagon bed. It felt good to be on her back again. There had been times during this day that he thought he would never have the chance again to feel that smooth gallop.

"Mr. Heath what you think you doin'? You ain't in no shape to be ridin' around…" Silas started only to be interrupted as Heath rode up beside the side of the wagon and grinned at him. "Now don't you be tryin' that fool grin on me. I been seeing that grin for more years than you been alive from every Barkley man in that big house, and it don't buy nothin' from me. You know there ain't nothing that you can do that Mr. Nick can't do with the Sheriff."

Heath shook his head. "Like you said Silas, I got me a good portion of stubborn, maybe it didn't all come from the Barkley side neither. I gotta be there when Nick trees them fellas. He might just take it into his head that the law would do better if he was to kill 'em out right. Then he would be in more trouble than anyone could get him out of, even that fancy lawyer brother of ours. I think he needs a cool head, and since he ain't got one of his own, its gonna have to be mine."

Silas looked at the young man who sat before him. He had cleaned the soot off the cowboy's face, but his hair and cloths were still black with the signs of what they had endured. The young man's right arm was in an improvised splint, which Silas gestured to. "And what you gonna do for a shootin' hand. You can't use that arm." He said trying to stop what he felt was a foolish mission. He had a feeling it wasn't going to work however. He watched as Heath reached over and pulled the rifle awkwardly out of the saddle sheath with his left hand. His eyes widened as Heath gave the rifle a complicate looking flip that cocked the weapon. He then settled it across his lap.

"Learned a long time ago to use a rifle with either hand, Silas. Saved my life a couple of times afore. Won't be no problem now at all." He gave Gal a signal with his legs, and the horse started forward, rapidly gaining speed as she moved. Heath moved smoothly with her, guiding her with his legs and the light touch on the reins with his right hand fingers.

"You take care now, you hear!" Silas yelled after him. The left arm raised and then the horse was disappearing over the small hill in the road. "You take good care of him, Lord. He a good boy." he said more quietly. The Reverend Green put a hand on his shoulder and added his voice to the quiet prayer.

"Amen Lord, Amen."

**Part 13**

Nick grunted in frustration as they waited in the small group of trees near the cabin where Rance Travers, the man Nick had seen in the saloon on a regular basis and the man that had revealed his face in the church. Travers had proven to be a mean drunk, often goading cowboys into fights, and generally disturbing the peace. The Sheriff had been familiar with the man, and had been able to determine that he, and the men he usually hung out with, were not in town. The two Barkleys, now sworn in as deputies, the Sheriff, and three more deputies were now waiting for another man to return from the small cabin, where he had been posing as a passing newcomer, lost and looking for directions. He was approaching now, and Nick straightened in his saddle, ready for action. As soon as they came into sight the man started shaking his head.

"He ain't there. As far as I could see there was only the woman and two little kids." He said.

Nick swore, not bothering to keep it quiet. Jarrod shot him a glare, and turned to the Sheriff. "Maybe she can tell us where he is."

"Why should she want to help us?" Fred asked, skeptically.

"If you think about the man's principles, and how he acts when he's drunk, do you really feel that his family is treated with respect and kindness?" Jarrod asked. "She may just welcome the chance to be rid of him. It's worth the chance."

Fred considered for a moment then nodded. He looked around at the group. "I don't think we all oughta go though. Maybe just you and me, Jarrod." The lawyer, seeing the wisdom of the thought agreed and the two men rode down to the cabin. It was not in good shape Jarrod could see that immediately. The corral was mostly broken down, with ropes strung across the openings to keep a sad looking horse in, not that the horse appeared motivated to move. The small lean-to leaned in truth, and Jarrod suspected that the horse wouldn't dare go in it lest it fall down around him.

Fred knocked on the door. It was opened by a careworn woman who at first glance looked to be in her forties. A second look beyond the drab worn out dress, the limp and lifeless, graying hair, and the thin face and one could see she was only in her twenties, but had not had an easy life. A small, thin child with blond hair and large blue eyes in a bruised face looked out fearfully at them from behind her skirts, and there was a baby in her arms.

"Hello, ma'am." Fred said. "I'm the Sheriff, and this here is Jarrod Barkley, my deputy, we're….."

"You lookin' for Rance?" she interrupted, clutching the baby to her chest more tightly, and laying a hand on the thin shoulder of the second child. Jarrod couldn't help but compare the thin, raggedly clothed child with how his brother Heath must have looked at the same age. The child looked to be five or six, and Jarrod knew from the report he had ordered for the Pinkerton Agency that Heath had been forced by the poverty of his mother to go to work in the mines as a charge boy at that same age. He also knew that Heath had been abused by his mother's brother, the owner of the local hotel. For a moment the thin blond haired child became Heath, and Jarrod ached to take him in his arms and comfort him, give him all the things that he, Nick, Audra, and Eugene had enjoyed as children. To show him the joys that had been denied his younger brother.

He shook off the feeling as Fred replied to the woman. "Yes Ma'am I'm afraid we are. I know you don't want to be getting him into trouble…."

"He does that for himself, he don't need no help from me. He's not here." She interrupted again.

"Ma'am," Jarrod said drawing her attention to him. "I understand that you may be reluctant to tell us anything, perhaps even afraid, but we can take care of you. Perhaps we can arrange for you to go visit relatives somewhere…" he let the words trail off. Now they would see how the woman really felt. There was a flash of interest in the dull eyes, and she looked around the cabin, and down at the child who stood at her side, quiet and clinging to her skirts. She smoothed a hand over his hair, and rested it gently on his face, where it was bruised.

"He been hittin' my boy for almost two years now, and he'll be startin' on the girl soon as she can walk. It didn't matter so much it was just me, but when he took to hittin' the little one…." She looked at them, a pleading in her eyes. "My folks are in Taos. They don't know where we are….Rance wouldn't let me write none. If I could get there, me and my babies…."

Jarrod put out his hand and after a moment she took it in her own. He shook it gently. "You have a deal. We'll be sure you get to your folks. Now, do you know where he might be? He is not in town."

"If he ain't drinkin' in town then he's over to Kyle Hagen's place. They sit around in the barn, Rance and Kyle and the others and get drunk and talk about all kinds of fool things. Like they was any better than anyone else. They're all just trash." Jarrod wasn't sure if she meant the other men, or was including her husband too. "He was here about an hour ago, smellin' of smoke and grinnin' like an idiot. He done rode off in the direction of Hagen's, he's probably still there."

Jarrod and the Sheriff exchanged looks, nodding to each other. Fred looked back toward the trees and gestured to the rest, urging them to come in. The woman watched with interest as the rest of the men came forward, led by Nick who had cleaned off his face, but was still wearing his soot stained cloths. He eyes got bigger, as she obviously made some connections.

"He in real big trouble this time ain't he? He won't be comin after me and the kids will he?"

"We'll see to it that he won't be doing anything for a long time, don't you worry about that." Jarrod said.

Fred nodded, and after a brief consultation with two of the deputies, turned back to the woman. "I'm gonna leave these two men here. They'll help you get your things together, and take you into town. Once we get back we'll see to it you get to your family." She nodded in agreement, and went back in the house.

Nick, sitting on his horse had observed this last, and he watched her lead the small blond child back into the cabin. Like his older brother before him, he saw in that small blond child the echo of his younger brother. Nick too had read the report, though he felt guilty now that he had done so. It had been Heath's story to tell, and they had gone behind his back to get the information. It seemed cheap now, and hurtful, and Nick wished it had never been done. He saw the thin, bruised, child look back at them with eyes as blue as the sky, filled with a knowledge of the worst that life can give. Nick knew that he was looking into the past, and that now that other child, that new brother of his, was depending on them, on him, to show him that there was more to life then just surviving. Nick looked toward the east, where the Hagen ranch, a small spread, stood. His eyes narrowed. There was going to be some justice done today, he'd see to that.

Jarrod and the Sheriff remounted their horses, and the men rode toward the Hagen place. They could take the straight route across country, but they would have to deal with the various fences in between, not to mention one small river. It would be longer to take the roads, but it would be clear all the way. Nick voted for the cross-country route, but was voted down. He rode in the rear, grumbling to himself. No one seemed to be in as much as a hurry as he was. Jarrod, riding in the front with Fred, glanced back at his brother from time to time, seeing the dark look on his face, and laughed to himself. Patient was not one of the ways that anyone would describe Nick Barkley.

Fifteen minutes later they were nearing the Hagen place, passing through a small rocky area with a dry streambed when suddenly there were rifle shots from the woods. One of the horses reared, screaming. One of the deputies screamed with it and fell to the ground to lay unmoving. The rest of the posse dove from their saddles, heading for the creek bed, where they all crouched, pistols in hand, trying to keep their heads down. They couldn't see where the shooters were, but they could tell there were three or four rifles firing at them from different directions.

The situation was dire. They couldn't move out of the creek bed without exposing themselves to fire from one side or the other. The riflemen, hiding in the rocks could hold them there as long as they wished, and could move in to take them at any time; the posse men were armed only with pistols, and the rifles were effective from a much longer range. They crouched there for almost 15 minutes, exchanging desolate fire with the men in the rocks, who moved from time to time, closing in on the creek bed. Nick and Jarrod, crouched next to each other, exchanged looks. Neither would go down without a fight, and each determined to protect his brother as long as possible. Nick snapped off a shot as he saw a dark form move from one rock to another, but knew that shot had missed almost as soon as he fired. He didn't see a way out of this.

Rance Travers dived behind a rock, as a shot ricochet off it, missing him by inches. He hadn't expected the men to take cover, had thought they could get them all in the initial ambush, but evidently the short time that he and the boys had been drinking had ruined their aim. At least one man was down, that was something, and they were closing in on the others. It was only by chance that they had found out the posse was coming. Ed Burns, one of his friends had ridden to his, Travers', place coming from his own cabin a little than a mile further west where he had gone to get a few bottles for their celebration. He had seen the posse there at the farm, and had seen them heading out in this direction, leaving two men behind. There had been no mistaking Nick Barkley among the posse. Ed had high tailed it across country, getting there almost seven minutes before the posse did, giving them a few quick minutes to set up the ambush. It hadn't been perfect, but they should have been able to get more of the lawmen on that first round. Now they would have to pry them out of that creek bed, and if that had been a sample of their shooting it might not be too easy.

Of course, he thought, it wasn't like they were in any hurry. Out here there was no one to bother them, and they could take their time. Yeah, he'd show them high and mighty Barkley's a thing or two about messin' around with Rance Travers! He pulled out a small metal flask and took a hit of the rotgut whiskey in it. He coughed as it burned its way down. He nodded to himself. Yeah, that was what they would do. First take care of the lawmen then he'd go take care of that woman of his. He'd show her to set the law on him. He took a second drink and then pocketed the flask. He looked to his left and saw Ed sneaking forward, ready to move between the rocks. Ed was on his feet but crouched down to keep in the cover of the rocks. He was just getting ready to run when, to Travers eyes, it seemed Ed suddenly slammed sideways into the rock. Ed was sliding limply, down the rock, making a strangled kind of yell, when the flat report of a rifle echoed across the countryside. Rance crouched back down, wondering how the men in the creek bed had gotten a rifle. Then he realized that Ed had never raised up far enough for any bullet, rifle or pistol, to catch him from the lawmen. Rance threw a panicked glance around. There was someone out here shooting at THEM! He briefly thought about his other two friends on the other side of the creek, but then discarded them as he had already done Ed. He lowered himself onto his belly and began making his way back toward where his horse was tethered. He was getting out of here, he only hoped he could make it to his horse without getting shot.

Nick heard the slap of the rifle, and he popped his head up. Jarrod grabbed him and yanked him back down just as a bullet ricocheted off the rock in front of them. "What are you trying to do, Nick?" Jarrod demanded angrily.

"Did you hear that rifle? And the groan?" Nick demanded, still trying to see, but keeping his head down at Jarrod's insistence.

"I've been hearing rifles for the last hour Brother Nick, one more was not of interest." Jarrod said with a snap. "As to the groan, no I didn't hear anything."

"Well you should have listened to this one. It was from further away then these yahoos are, and the groan was from out there in the rocks, like someone was shot. I KNOW that rifle. I got real used to it when we went deer hunting last week. Ain't but one around here that sounds like that, and if it is who I think it is, then that groan means we have one less person to deal with."

"What are you talking about Nick?" Jarrod said, puzzled. He knew that Nick and Heath had gone hunting for deer the previous week, bringing back several to be butchered and the meat smoked for the winter. In fact as he recalled, Nick had been in a huff because while he had gotten one deer, Heath had bagged three, evidently the last and largest right under Nick's nose at an impressive distance.

"It's Heath, and that damn Mexican rifle of his. I'll bet you a hundred bucks he just took out one of them for us."

"Brother Heath is on his way to town with a broken arm and a possible concussion, you should know that Nick. You told us your self."

Nick waved away his brother's logic. "That may be where we planned for him to be, but the boy is stubborn as the day is long. He meant to come with me before, and I can bet you Silas wasn't up to keeping him in that wagon if he took it into his head to follow along."

Jarrod shook his head, not sure what to think. As he reviewed what he had heard he did admit the rifle had sounded like it was further away from the creek bed than the others were. And come to think of it, there had been no firing from that side of the creek bed since that shot. "Say you are right Brother Nick. What do you propose we do about it? If it is Heath out there he's out numbered, and not in the best of shape. We aren't exactly in a position to help him either."

Nick looked around considering. He too had noticed that there was no firing from the one side. He looked around at the others who had been listening. He looked back at Jarrod. "What I figure is that you boys shoot into that side over there, and keep their heads down, and I'll sneak off this way and see if I can get around behind them."

"And what if they aren't gone from that side?" Jarrod said practically.

"We'll find out right quick won't we." Nick replied and checked his pistol. He made sure all the chambers were filled, and dropped it in his holster. He would need both hands to pull himself over the side. He moved into position. Jarrod looked at him intensely, and then with a nod went to get into position to fire into the rocks on the other side. "GO!" he called to Nick who rose up and powered himself over the edge.

A fusillade of shots came from the creek bed kept the men in the rocks low, and only one shot came near Nick as he dived into the rocks. He rolled to a stop, and his hand went to his gun as he came up almost face to face with another man. He left his gun in the holster as he realized that the man was dead, his eyes open and staring. There was a hole in his chest. _About the size a rifle bullet from that Mexican rifle would make_ Nick thought to himself. He wasn't sure how he knew that it was Heath out there, but he was sure. Something told him he was there, and that he was stalking the other men now. Nick caught sight of movement to his right. He watched for a few moments, and saw the movement again. Someone was crawling away from the creek bed, crawling on his belly. Evidently the realization that the hunters had become the hunted had been too much for this one. Nick rose to a crouch and went after the man, moving faster, but staying behind the rocks as much as he could. He had gone twenty feet when the report of that rifle sounded again, and there was a scream from the other side of the creek bed. Nick smiled grimly to himself. That meant they were down to one or two more at most. He was gonna take care of this one that was crawling away himself.

He saw the man rise to his feet, and move toward a small group of trees where Nick could see some horses tethered. The man was running. Nick sneered at this new depth of cowardice, it was low enough when you could ambush someone, but to run out on your friends that was even lower. He rose up himself and for the first time got a good look at whom he was chasing. It was TRAVERS! Nick felt that grin spreading across his face again. He pulled his pistol and held it along side his leg.

"TRAVERS!" he yelled, seeing the other man spin to look at him. Travers was carrying a rifle, but he didn't raise it, instead he dropped the weapon on the ground and backed away, his hands in the air.

"Don't shoot!" he yelled back. "I give up." He was swaying a little as he stood his hands raised shoulder high. Nick realized the man was drunk, and couldn't keep the sneer off his face. He holstered his pistol.

"You're not worth the bullet." He growled, disappointed that he wouldn't have a reason to kill the man. "Back up away from the rifle. " he ordered and watched as Travers obeyed, stumbling slightly. Once he was about ten feet away Nick spoke again. "Stop there. You move and I'll shoot you in the back as you run." He warned and bent down to pick up the rifle in his left hand.

What happened next was so sudden that later he couldn't recall what had happened first. He realized as he bent that Travers' hand was moving behind his back. At the same time, or so it seemed, Heath stepped out of the small group of trees, rifle in his left hand, yelling at Nick to watch out. Nick saw him start to raise the rifle as his own hand was coming up with his pistol.

Three shots blended together…………

**Part 14**

Jarrod watched as Nick pulled himself up and over the side of the creek bed, disappearing quickly into the rocks. As far as he could tell no bullets followed him there. This just might work. Jarrod kept his eyes on the place Nick had disappeared, and a few moments was rewarded by the sight of a crouching figure making his way through the rocks at a good clip. Nick didn't seem to be heading toward the other side of the Creek, but he could just be making a big circle. Suddenly the flat report of what Nick assured him was Heath's rifle could be heard again. That probably meant there was only one or two left. Jarrod looked at the sheriff.

"I think I will follow my brother Fred, think you can give me another round of cover fire?" At the sheriff's assent he readied himself and as the cover fire began he went over the side, and ran in the direct he had seen Nick go. He didn't draw any fire, and he was less careful than Nick had been to stay down. Once he was sure he was out of range of the other riflemen he stood and hurried in the direction he had seen Nick moving. He moved around on last large rock, and came upon a sight that made his heart stand still. Nick was there, almost fifty feet way, pistol in his hand, bending down to pick up something on the ground. Another man, Jarrod wasn't sure but he suspected from Nick's description that it was Rance Travers, was standing about 10 feet away from Nick, his hands at shoulder level. As Jarrod rounded the rock, he took all this in with one look, as he did so, he saw the strange man's hand start down and behind him. Jarrod went for his pistol, knowing that the shot was too long, but he had to try. He was opening his mouth to yell a warning when he heard another voice from the small grove of trees behind the ambusher.

"Nick! Look out!"

Jarrod noticed that Heath had stepped out of the grove of trees, and was bringing his rifle to bear with his left hand. He also saw Nick bringing up his own pistol. Jarrod had his pistol coming up, but hadn't any chance to fire as three shots rang out. He saw Nick stagger. But the most dramatic effect was on the ambusher, he had gotten his gun around, but he was thrown forward onto his face even as he fired it, and that now familiar rifle shot boomed louder than the pistols. He rushed forward as Nick righted himself and went to the still figure of the ambusher. He was standing there staring at the unmoving body when Jarrod came up beside him.

"Nick! Are you okay?" Jarrod demanded.

Nick looked at him, and smiled. "Got a little graze along my left arm, but other than that, I'm fine. And I'm a hell of a lot better than he is." He gestured at the still form. Jarrod looked at him for the first time, and saw the bullet hole right in the middle of the back of his head. Jarrod was glad that the man's face was hidden in the ground. He really didn't want to see what a heavy rifle bullet could do to a face on it's way out. He looked back toward the grove, 100 yards away, and at the young man who was now leaning against one of the trees, watching them.

"That's a very impressive shot for someone using their weak hand and 300 feet away." Jarrod said, impressed.

Nick looked at his younger brother, then at Jarrod. "I'm beginning to realize there ain't nothing weak about that boy at all, just parts he don't use much till he needs them." He turned his eyes back to Heath, and swore under his breath. Jarrod followed his line of sight, and saw that their brother was no longer standing against the tree, he seemed to be sliding down it to sit curled up at the base, his right arm clutched across his stomach. Nick strode toward him, giving no further thoughts to the man lying in the dirt. As far as he was concerned the world was better off without him.

Nick strode up to Heath's side and crouched down at his side. Heath lift his head, and Jarrod could see that while his face was clean, like Nick had been the rest of him was covered in soot. In fact his hair looked almost black. It amused Jarrod that with the dark hair Heath looked more like the other Barkley men than he usually did.

"Well boy," Nick was saying "I thought I left you with Silas, taking a nap if I recall."

Heath grimaced at him. Clutching his arm to his chest he tried to sit up straighter. He found he didn't quite have the strength for some reason, but Nick reached out and helped him sit up against the tree. Heath smiled a crooked smile at his two older brothers. "I knew you all couldn't handle these boys alone so I figured I better high tail it along. Just as well it looks like. I got 'em down to one for ya, reckon between the two of ya, you'll be able to take care of him. I'll just rest here for a bit in case you all need help."

"Oh you thought we needed help did you? Where were you when we got ambushed, came in a little late didn't you?" Nick grumbled, his eyes taking in the fact that the younger mans jeans appeared to be wet from the thighs down, and there were some marks on his face that the experienced cowboy recognized as being from brush lashing at you as you rode through it. There was suddenly regret in the light blue eyes, and Nick regretted he had tried to tease about that. He put a hand on the broad shoulder. "I didn't mean that the way you took it. I'm right grateful you showed up when you did. It looks like you took the quick route."

The blue eyes searched his for a moment, as if looking to be sure Nick meant it then turned to Jarrod who smile slightly and nodded. "I was trying to catch up with you. Got into town after you all had left and was following along. I got to the cabin just as you was pulling out and saw a man skulkin' around behind you a ways, then he took off across country. I just followed along, but I had to hang back so he didn't spot me. By the time I got in range you were already hidin' in the creek bed."

"Just out of curiosity, how far away were you when you took your first shot?" Jarrod asked.

Heath looked at him curiously and shrugged, grimacing as the arm protested. "No more than a thousand yards. That's about the longest this here rifle will do reliable like. If'n I had my old Spencer I coulda got him from a mile off. Might have to see about getting me one of those again, I sure admired that rifle." There was no bragging in the voice of the younger man, just a matter of fact answer. The two older men exchanged glances. Nick stood and held his hand out to Heath who used it to pull himself up. Jarrod moved to his other side and steadied him as he swayed a little.

"Perhaps you should stay here until we take care of that other man and then we can send for a wagon." He suggested. Heath was shaking his head even before Jarrod finished.

"I can ride. Already spent too much time in a wagon of recent late." He replied.

Nick, who had released Heath' s hand, but had been hovering nearby, laughed. "You think you've had it hard so far today boy? You just wait until we get home. Mother and Silas will be in overdrive takin' care of you." He smiled evilly at Heath's horrified look.

"Maybe I should just stay in town for awhile, get me a nice room at the Cattleman's, be near the Doc and all." He suggested, not wanting to face the pampering he was sure he would face. Jarrod had been house bound with a cold turned to bronchitis several weeks ago just before he and Nick had been deer hunting, and the level of cosseting that had gone on had both amused and horrified the younger man. He had determined that he would not be getting any colds or getting hurt around that house. He reckoned all that mother-henning would drive him loco.

Nick shook his head, still grinning. "Won't help. Mother would show up and haul your butt home, all with the cooperation of the doctor. She has him scared too. Nope, you better just get ready for it boy."

Heath sighed. Well damn. This family thing was starting to have sides to it he hadn't suspected before now……

**Part 15**

"Boy, you put that down if you know what's good for you!"

Heath was awkwardly trying to pick up a board with his left hand, balancing it with his casted right one when a voice spoke from behind him. He dropped the board and whirled, his right hand dropping towards where his gun would be had he been wearing one. It wasn't often in his adult, and teenage, life that he had been without one. He stopped the movement when his arm protested the movement with a sharp pain, and his mind recognized that it was a friend. He shook his head.

"Boy howdy, Silas, you done missed your calling. You oughta been out there scoutin' Indians or somethin', you move so quiet. That ain't the best way to come up on a man you know?" Heath said, glad for the moment he hadn't been wearing the pistol on his thigh. Of course it was tucked in the back of his jeans under his vest, but no one had to know about that.

"Indians ain't the only ones around that need to move around soft, Mr. Heath. Sometime it get you out of things you don't want to be in, and other times it lets you see and hear things you wasn't s'posed to see or hear. Like a certain someone who ain't supposed to be lifting nothing."

"Doc didn't say nothing about my left arm. He just said don't use the right one till its healed." Heath hedged.

"Um hmm." Silas agreed with a solemn nod. "And do you think Mrs. Barkley will understand the difference because she comin' this way right now with the Reverend Green."

Heath looked almost frantically around for the small form of that regal lady. She and he had been dancing around each other for the last two weeks. She had managed to insist him into staying in the house for the first week, using mainly an iron will and a motherly look. It had been a frustrating week for them both, with Heath mostly sulking in the gunroom with a book, and Victoria having to watch him like a hawk lest he make a break out the French doors. The second week had been more to Heath's liking. He had escaped early in the morning to take care of Gal and a few things in the barn. After breakfast he would go out with Nick to the regular jobs, with strict instructions from Victoria regarding what Heath could and couldn't do. Of course, Nick had understood, and let him do pretty much anything he wanted to do, as long as he could make an appearance in the evening none the worse for wear, thus making Victoria happy. Heath knew she hadn't been fooled, but at least she didn't say anything.

"What they comin' over here for? I thought they were talking' about a bake sale or whatnot."

"They was. But now they walkin' around to see how the buildin' is progressin'." Silas turned and looked at the framed out church that stood where the old one had been. In the two weeks since the fire, the Barkley determination had been seen in full force. Almost as soon as the ruins of the old church had stopped smoldering they had been cleared off, and a new foundation set. Lumber for the new church with the addition planed in it had been provided by the Barkley'. People from all around had come to donate their time to building the new church, along with monetary donations to help with the pews, windows, doors, and other things that would be needed.

It had been a very moving thing for Silas and the Green's and the congregation of the small church. It showed that while there would always be those few who might seek to persecute them for their color, there were many more who would see beyond it to simply help out a fellow person in need. The frame of the church had risen rapidly, and now the siding was being put on. It being Saturday, everyone was determined that the congregation would have a building in which to worship on the next morning, even if there wouldn't be any windows or pews yet. The Reverend Green, over come by the generosity of his neighbors, had arranged with the ladies of the church to provide a wide spread of food for the carpenters and the families that came with them to help. It was a joyous and noisy gathering, what with the pounding of hammers, sawing of wood, and the yelling of children.

Nick and Jarrod were helping with the building, up on the roof nailing on shingles. Victoria and Audra had been helping with the food, and discussing future plans with the Reverend and the church ladies guild. Heath, forbidden to work by his mother, had wondered around, talking with various men as they stopped to eat, but finding the day boring. He had finally found that if he went around the back of the new building where he couldn't be seen, and where none of his family were working, he could make himself useful by handing boards up to the men putting on the siding. They had been glad of the help, and he had spent a happy hour so far. Now he would have to find some other way to do his part. He hastily rolled down his sleeve and dusted off his hands.

"Thanks for the warning Silas. Don't think I want to be on the receiving end of that wooden spoon Nick talks about." He said.

"Mrs. Barkley ain't the only one you gots to worry about." Silas said meaningfully with a scowl at the young man.

"Now, Silas, it ain't like there's anything else for me to do. I done ate all of Mrs. Rogers' coffee cake as I can stomach, and if I hang round there much longer I'm gonna have to tell her it tastes like straw. You wouldn't want me to hurt that fine lady's feelin's now would ya?" Heath replied. It seemed like every time he had turned around Mrs. Rogers, a well meaning, but incredibly bad cook, had been there with another plate with a piece of her cake. Since he was the only one slow enough for the 85 year old woman to catch up to, he was her only victim, and had eaten half her small offering. He would never in a million years tell her anything of the kind, but maybe Silas would cut him a little slack.

Silas grinned at him, seeing right through the younger man. His Heath would never say a negative word to the kind old woman. "Maybe I done found you something to do. The reason I came lookin' for you wasn't just to give you a warnin', Tommy Barrett just came out from town with a note for you. It said you got a package in on the 3:00 pm freight."

Heath's eyes lit up, and Silas was once again reminded of his friend Tom Barkley. Many times he had seen that light in those same blue eyes. It did his old heart good to see it again. Heath started toward one of the Barkley wagons that had just been emptied of lumber. The driver was helping himself to some food. Heath climbed up on the seat, and took the reins in his good hand. "Tell everyone I'll be right back Silas! Shouldn't be more than an hour." Before Silas could protest the cowboy spoke to the horses and the wagon and team moved off toward town. Silas stood there shaking his head. That boy was a handful sure enough.

"Where is he going now Silas?" Spoke a voice behind him, and a small hand was placed on his arm.. He turned to find Mrs. Barkley standing there, looking after the wagon.

"He got a note from town that he had something come on the train. He said he would be back in about an hour. He didn't stay long enough for me to find out what it was, or to tell him he shouldn't be drivin' " Silas told her, patting her hand.

She smiled at him, and shook her head. "And you thought Nick was a bad patient. Oh well, it won't be any worse than him being here handling the lumber." Silas smiled, having already suspected she had known what the young man was up to. Not much got past those sharp gray eyes, and she had been dealing with Barkley men for many years now. "The reverend and I have come up with a plan for the fund raiser, since Heath won't be back for a while, why don't you come and join us while we work out the plans." Silas nodded, and offered her his arm. She took it and the two friends headed back to the chairs set in the shade of a large valley oak tree.

A little over an hour later Nick was standing near one of the tables set up to hold the bounty of food and drink that seemed to be never ending. He had a glass of lemonade in his hand, and was wiping his brow with a handkerchief. He had seen Heath leave the area in the wagon, and had kept an eye on the road from town, waiting to see his brother return. He had learned for Silas that Heath had gone to pick up something that had come in on the train, and he was anxious to see what it was. He had come to know that Heath was a frugal man, spending only what was necessary to survive, and saving the rest. He and Jarrod had tried to convince Heath that he could loosen up the reins a little, that there was no need to save for a rainy day quite so zealously. Heath had simply nodded and kept on doing as he did. He had bought some pants, only when his mother had caught sight of the often patched knees of the ones he had ridden onto the ranch wearing. He had bought a simple, pair, serviceable and well made, but not the expensive ones that Nick or Jarrod would have bought.

Now here he was with something coming in on the train. Had he ordered something through a catalog? He didn't seem quite the type, and it had to be something big, since he had taken a wagon. Gal still grazed among the other horses in the distance. Nick knew his brother well enough to know that he preferred riding her to any other for of transportation. He had come down from the roof when he had sighted a cloud of dust in the direction of the road from town. That had to be Heath. He finished his drink and headed toward the back of the new church where the wagon would come in. He was just reaching the area when Heath pulled the horses to a stop. The younger man was grinning like a fool, and sprang down from the wagon easily.

"Well," Nick grumbled, "It's about time you showed back up. Figured we weren't gonna get any work out of you today."

Heath just grinned at him, and looked over to see Victoria, Audra, Silas, and the Reverend Green, accompanied by several of the church deacons, coming toward them. Heath moved to the back of the wagon and untied the tarp he had secured over the back. Jarrod, having noticed Heath's departure, and having been watching for his return, joined the small group. He smiled to himself as he saw the smile on Heath's face and the sparkle in the blue eyes. He suspected they were about to learn what it was that Heath had spent a significant portion of his bank account on.

Jarrod, as the main contact for all things financial for the Barkley's, had been notified by the bank that Heath had withdrawn a rather large amount of money. He had also been told by an interested party that the same amount had been wired to a certain address back east. Jarrod had refrained from looking any further into the matter, thinking of how he had felt after reading the Pinkerton report on his younger brother. They had, he had, disregarded Health's right to privacy in that matter, and he would not do it again. He was just as curious as Nick and the others were as to what was beneath the tarp. He suspected from the smile and the light in his eyes that Heath was about to display that incredible depth of generosity that they had all come to know as a hallmark of the young man's character. Heath seemed to be happiest when he was helping others.

Heath finished untying the tarp, but left it in place. Then he gestured to Silas to come forward. "Silas, you wouldn't tell me when your birthday is, and after askin around I found out you ain't told no one all these years you been here. I don't know why, and I figure it's up to you whether you tell or not, but it makes it hard on us who want to give you somethin'." Heath held up a hand as Silas started to protest. "You been real good to me. Sometimes even I wasn't good to myself, but you always were. When I doubted, you never did. You just told me to hang on, and that it would be worth it some day" Heath looked around at his family members. "You were right. You told me about how your church needed an add on, and how the family was taking care of the lumber for that, and I thought maybe while you wouldn't take nothin' for yourself maybe you would take something for the church. Course I meant for it to go in the old one, but maybe this is better, this way they can start out together." Having spoken more than he usually did, Heath felt his face starting to burn with a blush. Unable to go on, he gestured toward the tarp. Silas looked at him for a moment, and then stepped forward and tugged the tarp away.

In the back of the wagon, encased in an open framework was a bell, almost two feet tall. The bronze shone beautifully in the sunlight. Silas reached out and stroked the side of the bell, blinking away the tears that rose in his eyes. He remembered how he had told Heath that a church bell had saved his life when he had been on the run from the south. Alone and lost in the woods he had been hungry and tired, and was sure that he was being tracked. While he wasn't an expensive slave, his former owner was a man that aimed to hang on to those things that he saw as his, no matter what the cost. Silas had been so tired, so hungry, so forlorn in his isolation that he had almost considered letting the men catch him, and taking the consequences.

Then through the silent night had come the tolling of a bell. It had seemed so loud in the stillness of that cold winter night that Silas had felt that he was standing on the steps of the church. Instead it had been another mile to the church, and he had found with the kind priest there a sanctuary in which to renew his sense of purpose. He had never looked back from there.

Now, this bell stood before him, ready to call his friends and brothers in the Lord to worship. To call other lost souls to a sanctuary, and it was being offered in his name! He could not blink back all the tears, and he lifted his face to look at the young man who stood nervously at his side. He could see the faces of the other Barkleys behind the young man, all smiling, even Audra who with her sensitive nature was crying tears along with it. The blond cowboy was searching his face, looking for a clue as to his feelings, and Silas saw regret forming in those sky blue eyes, as the young man mistook the tears. He reached out a hand and put it on the tanned face.

"Bless you boy. You done give me a gift like nothin' I ever have had, like nothing I ever even knew to want." He said softly, so that only Heath could hear what he said. He patted the cheek beneath his hand, and returned the smile that grew on Heath's face.

"You're welcome Silas." Came the equally soft reply. Nothing more needed to be said. Their hearts had said it all when their eyes had met. The two men moved apart, and the rest of the people moved into see the bell. Heath managed to work his way to the back of the crowd, and was standing there watching when Nick strolled up beside him.

"Well, I know you didn't carve it yourself, so where did you get a bell?" he asked. Heath quirked one of his crooked smiles at his brother.

"Worked at a foundry up in Denver for a few months couple of years ago. Man I used to know there took it over last year. They make all kinds of things, cannon, rifle barrels, statues, this here bell was noting for them to do. I just sent him the money and he sent the bell."

Nick knew that there had to be more to the story than that, a foundry that turned out cannon and statues wouldn't be taking commissions for a small church bell just because someone asked for one, but he knew that getting the full story would be like prying a calm out of its shell. He added it to his list of things he would worm out of his taciturn brother over time. He clapped a hand on Heath's back, and gave him a wink. "Well, I hope you're planning on helping us get that thing up in the steeple. The rest of us have put in a full day of work and aren't as fresh as those of you that have been lollygagging around."

Heath shot him a fake glare, and then grinned. "Hell Nick, the horses have worked harder than you, and between them and the block and tackle I got in the wagon we'll have that bell up in no time, and you don't hear them complaining."

Jarrod, who was standing behind his brothers just near enough to Heath's reply, laughed and looked at his mother who was holding onto his arm. 'It seems my brothers can't play nicely even at church, perhaps they should be sent home to learn their Sunday scriptures."

Victoria smiled at her two younger sons, who, hearing their brother laugh looked back at them unrepentantly and then headed toward the church no doubt to look over what would be needed to raise the bell. "I have a feeling that they would only squabble more if left on their own." Victoria said, "They seem to enjoy it. They remind me sometimes of two old parrots one of my aunts had. They squawked at each other constantly, would take pretend swipes with their beaks at each other, would fight over any given morsel of food even if there was plenty of other food available. But if you tried to separate them they would pine for each other, not eating, not sleeping. I see that in Nick and Heath sometimes, the possibility of that level of devotion."

They both looked on with amusement as they saw Heath suddenly come running out of the unfinished church, moving awkwardly with his bad arm, but still making good time. There was a roar of consternation from inside, and soon Nick appeared, running after his brother. The two disappeared around the corner of the church, followed by a herd of laughing children.

Jarrod smiled down at his mother who was shaking her head and laughing, "Birds of a feather indeed, Mother."

THE END 


End file.
